


Toxicity

by aleksrothis



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-17 14:17:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleksrothis/pseuds/aleksrothis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isildur's eye is caught by a certain half-elf but his affections are not returned</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He should have realised something was amiss from the moment the Prince arrived at his tent door. In all the time their forces had been marching together, Isildur had barely spoken two words to him. But that night, as they made camp, he had approached the half-elven herald, bearing a flask of wine, and asked for his company. Elrond had hesitated briefly, then, unwilling to offend the son of the King of Gondor, had accepted the offer and invited the Man into his tent. Now he bitterly regretted his trustfulness, for Isildur's intentions had proved less than honourable.

Isildur had encouraged Elrond to drink deeply of the wine he had brought along, whilst he himself drank but sparingly. Elrond didn't think to be suspicious until he began to feel dizzy with its effect. The Prince had been moving increasingly closer throughout the evening, and at that point, judging the time to be right, had pressed a hand upon the half-elf's thigh and leant in to press a kiss against his lips.

Elrond had then tried to push Isildur away, but had found his reactions slow. He had felt somewhat numb, and when he had shaken his head to try and clear it, he had felt sick. He had closed his eyes, forcing himself to focus on the situation in hand. "What have you done to me?" he had gasped, leaning back to try and distance himself from the Man.

Isildur had smiled. An arrogant smile, almost mocking. "Mornloth, in the wine," he said, sounding pleased with himself.

Elrond had met the Prince's eyes as he struggled to resist the urge to just give in to the drug's effects. "No," he said. Isildur had just smiled again and shaken his head. "Please..." Elrond's tone had been pleading, "...I don't want this."

Anger had flashed in the Man's dark eyes, "How dare you turn me away. You've been playing games with me as long as we've been travelling together. Even tonight, I just asked you to join me for a drink, you invited me in here..."

"Please, just leave now, Isildur..." 

"Not until I get what I came for," the Man had said, and although Elrond fought, he was weakened from the drugged wine and was easily overpowered.

"Isildur, no..." Elrond had pleaded with him again and again, but the Man had paid no heed; pushing him down onto the bedding, holding his arms above his head with one hand, and pulling at his clothing with the other. With the half-elf's body exposed, Isildur had then run his free hand greedily over that nude form. The sight of his flesh, pale as marble, ageless and flawless, made him become painfully aroused.

The effect of the drugged wine made it hard for Elrond to resist as Isildur kissed him passionately. He tried to fight as the Man's tongue plundered his mouth, but his body betrayed him. Desiring more, Isildur unfastened his breeches, releasing his swollen cock. Loosening his grip on Elrond's wrists, he forced one hand down to caress his manhood. 

Elrond turned his face away, but Isildur became angered and, taking hold of the other's long hair, pulled his face towards him. After forcing another brutal kiss upon his lips, Isildur then moved up to straddle Elrond's chest, drawing the half-elf's arms down and pining them at his sides.

Realising what the Prince intended, Elrond struggled against his captor but to no avail. When he refused to allow Isildur's straining erection into his mouth, the Man simply used a hand to force the his jaw open and thrust in. Elrond gagged as the Man's cock brushed against the back of his throat, nearly choking him. Isildur paused and pulled out, warning him, "I'm not stopping until I'm done. You'd be best to just allow me what I want."

"Never," came the bitter reply.

Isildur slapped him hard, then thought to look around for the herald’s weapons’ belt. Finding it, he pulled out a hunting knife which he then pressed to Elrond's throat. He flinched. "Don't struggle, and don't even think of biting down unless you want your throat slit," Isildur threatened. The half-elf closed his eyes, but that didn't stop the tears escaping. He nodded, his body shaking, as Isildur resumed his brutal assault, thrusting roughly into the other's mouth.

As the Man sensed his impending release he pulled away, wanting to prolong his pleasure, and lifted his weight off the other's body. As the pressure was removed, Elrond attempted to escape, using the Prince's momentary distraction to get the knife away from his throat. Once again, Isildur proved the stronger, forcing Elrond onto his stomach and using the knife to remove the rest of his clothing.

Aware of the Man's next intention, Elrond renewed his struggles. He couldn't let this happen, he couldn't bear it. Isildur pressed two fingers into his mouth with the instruction, "Get them wet." Elrond refused to comply. It didn't matter that the Man would tear into his body; by the time that happened, his Fëa would be gone. The Valar had gifted the Firstborn with the ability to leave their bodies if they could no longer bear to live. Elrond felt that he would rather go to Mandos' halls, than submit to such a violation.

As Isildur prepared to force himself upon the half-elf, Elrond prepared himself for the sundering of his body and soul. *To die, like this, not even in battle, but at the hands of a supposed ally* It would have been ironic if it wasn't such a painful thought. Elrond took what he expected to be his last breath, but then suddenly, the Man's weight was lifted off him.


	2. Chapter 2

"What in Elbereth's name is going on here?" a voice asked.

Elrond almost cried with relief at having been rescued. Pulling the remaining scraps of his garments over him to save himself from any further humiliation, he turned to face the elf who'd spoken. The tall blond was holding onto Isildur by his collar as the Prince attempted to excuse his actions. Ignoring Isildur's claims, Elrond met the other elf's eyes, "He was trying to... to assault me..."

The Man loudly denied that he had been doing any such thing, but Elrond's rescuer didn't listen, instead roughly pushing him outside the tent. "Get back to your own part of the camp," he said, "and we'll see what your father has to say about this when he hears of it." Isildur stalked off, ignoring the elf's threat and pulling his clothing together as he walked.

The elf then knelt beside Elrond, who had pulled a blanket over himself to cover his exposed flesh. "I cannot thank you enough for saving me, Glorfindel," he said, "another few minutes and you would have found me dead."

"We are fortunate indeed then that I heard the sounds of a struggle and came to investigate," Glorfindel replied. He paused, then continued gently, "Elrond. Can I ask you what he did to you?"

Elrond shuddered. He was barely holding himself together as it was, and just wanted the other elf to leave him alone to cry. How could he show such weakness to another? Especially one who was so close to their king, Gil-galad. How could he bear the humiliation of others knowing that the lord of Imladris had been so easily overpowered by a mere Man.

Glorfindel didn't want to hurt the half-elf any further, but he had to know what Isildur had done. He placed a hand on the other's shoulder. "Elrond..." he asked tentatively, "I'm sorry, but I need to know what just happened." Elrond shook his head violently. He was certain that Glorfindel would blame him for what had happened.

As he moved, another wave of dizziness passed over him. The drug Isildur had given him would likely take until morning to wear off, and he felt an urge to just close his eyes and give in to its effects.

Glorfindel, however, was still concerned by Elrond's reluctance to speak. He wasn't sure how he could encourage him to explain. Thinking quickly, he said, "Unless you can tell me what he did, Elrond, I'll have to go and report this to Gil-galad," hoping that he had judged correctly the reason behind the herald's reluctance.

He had. Elrond looked up sharply, though he regretted the hasty movement almost immediately. "No. You can't do that... please, Glorfindel, you can't tell anyone what happened..."

"Well then, you'll have to tell me what went on here."

Elrond covered his face with his hands, trying to hide his shameful tears, but his body shook with each sob. 

Glorfindel left his hand resting on the half-elf's shoulder as he waited silently for him to calm down enough to speak.

Elrond took a final few deep breaths, then, wrapping his arms around his body in a protective gesture, met the sentry's eyes. "He drugged my wine," he said, almost defiantly, as if daring Glorfindel to condemn him for it. "I tried to fight him, but I couldn't. He... he made me pleasure him," at this he looked away. "He was too strong for me to stop him. He... he held a knife against my throat."

Glorfindel felt sick. How could anyone, even a Man, do something like that?

Elrond, looking back to see the other elf's reaction, mistook the look of disgust on his face. "It wasn't my fault," he cried. "I didn't want him to do it. I didn't encourage him."

"No, no. I would never suggest that," Glorfindel said, horrified that Elrond could believe he would blame him.

"I saw the look on your face. The disgust. You think I should have been able to stop him." Once again, tears were flowing down his face.

Unable to think of any other solution, Glorfindel pulled the half-elf into his arms, trying to comfort him. "Hush, don't cry. I promise you that's not what I think. It was him I felt disgusted towards, not you. Not you, Elrond. Don't cry." He continued to murmur words of comfort as he rubbed his back, in an attempt to calm him down.

Elrond sobbed against Glorfindel's shoulder. All the last hour's emotion had overwhelmed him. Shame, anger and relief all warred for control, but he couldn't begin to express them except through these bitter tears. He was sure the other elf must think he was so weak to cry like this, but he could do nothing more.

Eventually the sobs faded away, and his tears dried up, but Elrond couldn't bear to move away from the comfort of the sentry's arms. Couldn't bear to look up and see the censure that he was sure would be in the other's eyes.

As if reading his thoughts, Glorfindel pulled back, tipping the half-elf's face up to meet his eyes. Elrond couldn't look away, but to his surprise the only emotions he could find were pity, and love. It was too much. "How can you not despise me for what happened?" he asked, bitterly.

"You couldn't have stopped him. You told me he drugged you," Glorfindel replied. "And having watched you many times in Imladris, I have to believe you. You are not weak. For him to have done this would have required more than brute strength."

"You have watched me?" Elrond repeated, confused and not having truly heard anything beyond that statement. Why would the other have been watching him? Glorfindel had had many friends back in Eriador, but the half-elf wasn't one of them. To tell the truth, he had few friends, spending much of his time with the king, and busy as he was with his duties in Imladris.

Glorfindel frowned, not knowing why those words should be so important, but recognising the hope on Elrond's face. "Why shouldn't I watch you?" he asked, cautiously, not wanting to alarm the other. "You are very talented, and very pretty, and yet you keep yourself at a distance from the rest of us."

Elrond blushed at the compliment and turned away. He wasn't ready to deal with that, so soon after what had happened with Isildur. Glorfindel realised why the half-elf was turning away and changed the subject. "It will be alright, Elrond. Everything will be fine. He won't be able to hurt you again."

Elrond gave him a look of gratitude. Although he doubted that Glorfindel would truly be able to protect him from Isildur, he would feel safer knowing that someone was looking out for him.

"Elrond..." Glorfindel tried to speak lightly. "You really need to tell Gil-galad what happened here tonight."

"No, I can't." Elrond was adamant. It was bad enough that anybody should know, but to admit his failure to his king... He couldn't do it.

"He won't judge you, Elrond. And what if Isildur tries to force you again? Or worse, if he tries with someone else?"

"I can't tell him, Glorfindel."

Glorfindel sighed. He didn't want to hurt the half-elf, but this was too huge a thing to keep secret. He decided to try one more time, then he'd drop the issue... for now. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I just can't." Elrond met Glorfindel's eyes again. "I'm grateful to you for rescuing me, but you aren't going to persuade me to tell everyone."

"You need not tell everyone, Elrond. Only Lord Gil-galad..."

Elrond shook his head firmly, though wincing at the pain it caused. "No."

"Then I'll drop the subject. Now, would you like me to stay with you tonight?"

Elrond looked both hopeful and relieved, "Would you? I think I'd be too afraid to rest otherwise. My thoughts still feel somewhat hazy..."

"If you want me to, then I'll stay," Glorfindel said. It didn't seem fair to leave Elrond alone after what had happened to him. And he would be happy to stay with him for the night.

Elrond lay down, pulling his bedding over his body, without removing what was left of his clothing. He looked over at Glorfindel and smiled hesitantly. The other elf lay down on the ground beside him. "Rest, Elrond. I'll keep watch. I can rest on the march tomorrow."

Elrond nodded, gratefully accepting the offer. Within a few minutes, it was clear from his steady breathing that he was walking through the paths of dreams. 

Glorfindel lay awake at his side all night, guarding the half-elf from any who would cause him harm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Janet, Beth and Chiara for beta reading and Granamyr and Pythoness for noticing things I'd forgotten.


	3. Chapter 3

**Several days later**

The combined armies of the Last Alliance made their camp that night beside a tributary of the Anduin. All were grateful for the fresh water, especially when their leaders gave the men permission to bathe, so long as a sentry was posted.

Standing guard over the bathers, Glorfindel sought out the half-elf, Elrond. Since the events a few nights previous, he had spent quite a bit of time in the other's company. Although Elrond had not referred again to what had happened with Isildur, Glorfindel could see the tension in his every move.

Unable to spot him amongst the bathers, the sentry then searched for the Prince, Isildur, concerned that he might have taken advantage of the situation to again attempt to harm Elrond. However, the Man was visible, waiting on the bank for some of his men.

As if he had sensed the sentry's gaze, Isildur turned, meeting Glorfindel's stare. With his elven sight it was impossible to miss the expression of dislike that crossed the Prince's face before he turned back to his friends. The sound of their crude laughter was like a slap in the face.

As soon as he was relieved from duty, Glorfindel hurried to Elrond's tent, concerned by the herald's absence. He found him lying, curled up on his bedding. "Elrond?" Glorfindel said, kneeling at his side. The half-elf opened his eyes, meeting the sentry's anxious gaze.

The pain that had seemed to fade away over the last couple of days was once more evident in Elrond's eyes. "What's the matter?" asked Glorfindel, keeping his tone light, "I thought you would have been down at the water. I was worried when I couldn't see you..."

Elrond looked away. "He was there," he admitted. "I couldn't bring myself to face him as if nothing had happened."

Glorfindel was further concerned upon hearing the pain in the other's voice. Elrond had seemed to be getting over what had happened. Admittedly this was the first time he had seen the Man since the other night, but still, it shouldn't have set him off like this...

"Oh, Elrond," he said. "You can't hide yourself from Isildur forever. Perhaps you should tell Gil-galad what he did, otherwise you're going to have to face him as if nothing _did_ happen."

Elrond flinched when Glorfindel said the Prince's name, but shook his head, "I told you before, I can't tell anyone."

"But if you can't ignore it either..."

"I don't know _what_ to do," Elrond cried. "You should have just let me be, then I'd be dead now and it wouldn't matter."

"You don't mean that..." Glorfindel said, shocked that he could even suggest it.

Elrond sighed, but shook his head, "No, I don't really mean it. But Lord Gil-galad spoke with me today as we marched, wanting to know why I have been so quiet these past few days. And I hate myself for lying to him, but I just can't tell him." He bit his lip, hesitating over his next words, "He's asked me again to dine with him. What am I supposed to do?"

Glorfindel recognised the unspoken request, "I'm not going to make excuses for you, Elrond. You can't continue avoiding him indefinitely." He could see this conversation going badly and decided to try and change the subject, "Let's not speak about this now. Come down to the water with me..."

"I'm fine."

"You mean you'd rather just sit here alone and brood over what happened."

Elrond smiled ruefully, "You know me too well, friend. I just don't want to risk running into him. What if he's still there?"

"He won't be, Elrond," Glorfindel assured him, "he left before I did. Come on, there'll hardly be anyone there now. And it's not as if you'd be alone, I'll be there to watch out for you."

Elrond hesitated, wanting to accept, but still unsure. Understanding his uncertainty, Glorfindel put an arm around the half-elf, "I promised you that I wouldn't let him hurt you again and I meant it. As long as I can protect you I will."

Elrond leant against Glorfindel's shoulder. They sat together in silence for several long minutes until the half-elf came to a decision. He nodded, saying, "I'll come with you. It'll soon be dark, and few of the Men wander about after nightfall."

"Indeed not," said Glorfindel, trying to keep the relief from his voice. He'd been worried that Elrond would insist upon staying in his tent. He had been keeping his distance even from the other elves since the events of the other night, walking only beside Gil-galad, or Glorfindel himself.

Although he had seemed to be better the last couple of days, Elrond now appeared to be withdrawing into himself again. Glorfindel knew that if Elrond isolated himself any longer then questions would begin to be asked, especially if he continued to fluctuate between some semblance of normality and complete withdrawal.

"...all evening?" Glorfindel looked up, startled. Elrond was standing at the tent entrance, bathing items in his hands and an amused expression on his face. Obviously now that he had made his choice he was eager to get on with it, and equally obviously he'd said something while Glorfindel's thoughts had been elsewhere.

"I asked if you were planning on sitting there all evening?" Elrond repeated, clearly aware of the other elf's embarrassment.

"I'm sorry... I wasn't paying attention."

"I guessed that." A pause, then, "You haven't changed your mind have you? We don't have to do this now."

"No, no... it's not that at all..." Glorfindel stopped. He couldn't really explain what he had been thinking about, so instead he rose saying, "We just need to go by my tent so I can collect my things."

Elrond smiled nervously at him, leading the way out of his tent and across the camp to Glorfindel's. The sentry shared his space with an elf of Lindon, but fortunately he was absent at this time.

They made their way down to the water's edge, which, as Glorfindel had predicted, was just about abandoned. He stripped quickly, not wanting to take any longer than necessary in bathing and made his way into the water. Once there, he looked over at Elrond, who was still dressed and standing motionless as if stricken with fear.

As he'd been about to undress he had suddenly been overcome with a feeling of dread. Since Isildur's attempted assault a few days hence he had been getting gradually closer to Glorfindel and here he was, about to be naked before him, even if it was somewhere fairly public. Well, actually, that wasn't a very comforting thought, that he would be vulnerable to anyone... But he was afraid that the sentry would also hurt him.

Glorfindel frowned; this was neither the time nor the place for Elrond to freeze up. Moving back towards him, and keeping his voice low, Glorfindel called, "Elrond? What's the matter? Don't you want to join me?"

The half-elf looked over at him, a slightly panicked expression in his eyes. Now that he was here, he wasn't sure that he could actually do this. But he could see that Glorfindel was concerned about him, and there seemed little point in leaving, when he knew that the other elf would only follow him.

Slowly, self-consciously, he removed his clothing. Elrond knew in his heart that he had no reason to be ashamed, but that didn't stop the emotion from taking hold of him. Shaking from more than simply the cooling air on his exposed flesh, he joined Glorfindel in the stream.

Elrond let the waters flow over him, feeling as if his problems were being washed away in the gentle current of the stream. Glorfindel could tell that the half-elf was more at ease than he had been in days.

It was usual for the elves to bathe quickly and make their way to the campfire to join their friends in singing to the stars. However, Elrond and Glorfindel lingered in the water, sharing a silent understanding. Soon they were the only two remaining.

Elrond relaxed both from the water's effect and the close presence of the other elf. It didn't seem such a fearful thing after all, the friendship that he offered something Elrond was grateful for at this time. Glorfindel had stayed by his side as much as he could since the other night, and had not put any sort of pressure on him.

A sound from the bank made them both jump. They'd been so absorbed in their own thoughts that they had forgotten anyone else was around. Standing there was the elf who'd been standing guard over the stream, Arvendil of Imladris. He smiled at them, "I hate to disturb you, but I'm about to go off duty, and I'm not allowed to leave you to bathe alone..."

"It's not a problem..." Glorfindel replied, realising for the first time how much time had passed. Stepping out of the water, he walked over to where they had left their things and collected the towels; one of which he wrapped around himself, the other he handed to Elrond, who had followed him onto the bank. "I'm sorry we're delaying you."

Privately, Elrond thought that it was a problem, as he too wrapped himself in the proffered towel. He had been beginning to let down his barriers around Glorfindel, but then the other elf's interruption had caught him off-guard. He hadn't even heard anyone close by until they spoke.

"No need to apologise, Glorfindel," the sentry said, "You took your turn on duty earlier tonight. If you're done though, I'll be off now..."

"Yes, thank you, Arvendil, we're done," said Elrond, a little harshly, wanting the guard just to go and leave them alone.

"So, are you going to come along and join us later, Lord Elrond, or are you dining with the king this evening?" Arvendil asked, not seeming to realise that his presence was unwelcome.

Glorfindel, however, noticed the tension that had returned to Elrond's stance and sought to alleviate it. "It's getting late for us to be standing around wrapped in so little," he interjected. Elrond smiled, somewhat relieved.

"Of course, don't let me keep you now," the other elf responded, adding with a smile, "hope to see you both later." Then he was gone, and they were alone.

Glorfindel put a hand on Elrond's arm. "Come on," he said, "we'll go back to your tent. You need to get ready if you're going to eat with Gil-galad."

"I'm not going..." said Elrond, pulling away and picking up his clothing from where he had dropped it on the bank. Looking back at Glorfindel he continued, "...and I don't need you to come with me either. I'm sure you'd rather be with your friends."

He knew he shouldn't push Glorfindel away when he felt like this, but he couldn't bear his company right now. He was confused about his developing feelings for the blond elf, and couldn't handle these sort of emotions on top of trying to come to terms with what had the human prince had done to him.

Glorfindel stared after him, bewildered by his sudden change in attitude and not understanding why Elrond was pushing him away. He slowly collected his things together and headed back towards the main part of the camp, unsure whether to return to his own tent or go to Elrond despite his rejection. Deciding that it would be best to give the half-elf some time to himself, he made his way to his quarters, planning to leave Elrond be for the moment.

Elrond somehow found his way back to his own tent through a veil of tears. He had panicked when they had been interrupted by the guard and now all of his buried fear was coming back and had overwhelmed him.

Pushing back the opening to his tent, Elrond stepped inside, then his heart seemed to freeze in his chest.

On his bedding, running the blade of his knife gently across his fingers, sat the one person Elrond would have been happy to never see again. "Well..." said Isildur, smiling cruelly, "...now you're back and we're alone... where did we leave off..."


	4. Chapter 4

Elrond wanted to run away, wanted to cry out for help, but it seemed that the shock of Isildur's unexpected appearance had left him frozen with fear. Isildur stood up, a predatory light in his eyes, and stalked towards the half-elf. Elrond went to take a step back, but the Prince grabbed his arm, "Don't think you're going anywhere," he sneered.

Walking around behind the half-elf, he ran a hand across his exposed shoulders. "So beautiful..." he breathed. Elrond felt sick. Ensuring that the tent flap was drawn shut, Isildur pushed Elrond further inside. Elrond stumbled, but managed to stay upright.

He tried to calm his breathing, concentrating on reading Isildur's movements. The Man was still behind him, and Elrond could only guess at his intentions. Very aware that he was only protected by a towel, Elrond felt vulnerable. And Isildur knew it. He stroked the flat of his blade down the back of Elrond's arm, a smile crossing his face as the half-elf shuddered.

Isildur had watched Elrond for a long time, desiring him since the first time he had laid eyes on him, but especially so since they had been so rudely interrupted the other night. He hadn't expected that anyone would come to the half-elf's defence, and the surprise appearance of the blond sentry had been most unwelcome.

He had been disappointed that Elrond wasn't amongst the bathers earlier in the evening, but when one of his men had informed him that he was at the stream with the sentry, Isildur had returned. He had watched them from the shadows at the camp's edge and hungered to possess that beauty.

Seeing the half-elf drive the blond away had been most... satisfying, and had crystallised his plans, bringing him once again to Elrond's tent. There would be no interruptions tonight. Isildur laughed at his obvious fear. "No-one's going to stop me this time, melme. You'll soon be mine..."

Tearing away the towel that stood between him and the half-elf's naked flesh, he pushed Elrond to the ground and began to shed his own clothing, "Nothing's going to come between us now..."

********************

Meanwhile, in his own tent, Glorfindel sat, brushing the water out of his hair. He felt guilty for leaving Elrond alone when he had promised to be there for him, but he had to follow the half-elf's wishes. Still, he couldn't ignore the growing feeling of unease, as he worried that Isildur might again approach his friend.

He shook his head. Surely, having been caught once the Man wouldn't be foolhardy enough to try again. That was, if he could even get into the elven half of the camp at this time. No, he thought, trying to convince himself, Elrond would be fine, and probably better off for some time alone.

********************

Once again pressed into the ground by the Man's weight, and with his hands tied above his head, Elrond tried to find the inner calm he needed to take himself beyond Isildur's reach. However, the fear and helplessness he felt from being once more at the Prince's mercies made it an impossibility. As much as Elrond tried to will himself to fight, his memories of his previous failure had put the Man at an advantage.

The half-elf's terror and useless struggling aroused Isildur and increased his determination to possess him. Holding Elrond's head still with a grip on his hair, and with the knife in his other hand tracing patterns across the half-elf's body, Isildur told him, "There's no point in struggling... the only thing you're doing is making me want you more..."

Elrond froze. He could feel the Man's erection pressing against his hip and the thought that his resistance was encouraging him... It was horrifying.

He closed his eyes, trying again to get calm enough to end this, but Isildur pressed soft kisses against his lips, destroying his concentration. "Open your eyes, my love," Isildur murmured, "look at me..." Feeling the cold metal of his knife against his throat, Elrond obeyed.

He thought of pressing into the knife's sharp blade. Wanting to force the Prince into slitting his throat, into ending his life where he couldn't, but when it came to it he couldn't bring himself to do it. He doubted Isildur would allow it to happen anyway, he was no use to the Man dead.

Smiling gently at the half-elf, as if he were a willing party in this, Isildur's gaze was filled with lust. He longed to take his time in claiming his prize, but wouldn't risk the chance of being disturbed this time.

He forced the half-elf into a brutal kiss, his tongue demanding entrance. Elrond couldn't fight him but refused to respond. Frustrated by his passivity, and unwilling to hold back any longer, Isildur moved off the half-elf, making him roll over onto his stomach. Stricken with fear, Elrond could put up no more than a token resistance.

His silent tears soaked into the blanket under his head, as Isildur stroked his free hand across the smooth planes of the half-elf's back and buttocks. Leaning over Elrond's body, Isildur traced a path down his back with the knife, leaving a red line from the base of his neck, all the way down his spine, just breaking the skin, ending its descent as he ran the flat of the blade across the herald's rear.

Elrond whimpered with terror as Isildur pressed a finger into his tight passage. There would be no reprieve this time; he couldn't think clearly enough to escape his body. There was no one who could protect him. *Glorfindel, where are you... you promised you wouldn't let this happen...*

********************

Over the other side of the camp, Glorfindel had been drawn to one of the campfires by his friends, despite his misgivings. Unable to explain to them why he was worried about Gil-galad's herald, they had talked him into joining them.

In the back of his mind, a little voice insisted that he really shouldn't be leaving Elrond alone, but as his friends drew him into their conversation, he ignored it, telling himself that Elrond would be fine for a couple of hours; that he would go and check on the half-elf later, it would at least give Elrond time to clear his mind...

********************

Obviously having taken it into consideration that the half-elf might be unwilling to cooperate, Isildur had brought a bottle of oil with him, with which he slicked his fingers. He then pushed two fingers past the tight ring of muscle that guarded the entrance to the half-elf's body, offering some cursory preparation. Elrond cried out at the painful pressure.

Isildur slicked more oil over his swollen cock, then pressed himself against Elrond's opening. He held a hand over his to prevent him from making any noise or alerting anyone as to what was happening, and then sheathed himself in the half-elf with one sharp thrust.

Elrond would have screamed at the invasion if it weren't for the hand silencing him, and instead he bit through his lip. The pain was unbearable, irregardless of Isildur's brief attempt to prepare him. Elrond again wished that he could die rather than allow this to happen to him, but was still couldn't bring himself to act.

As the Man roughly thrust into him, his hardness tore into the half-elf's flesh. Elrond came close to passing out from the pain, but unconsciousness remained elusive. He sobbed repeatedly as Isildur violated his body.

Finally it was over, the Man groaning with satisfaction as he spilt his hot seed into the half-elf. Softening, he pulled out of Elrond's body, his manhood streaked with the half-elf's blood. Again Elrond moaned with pain, the withdrawal in itself hurting him further.

Leaving Elrond lying on the tent floor, Isildur cleaned himself off and dressed. Before departing he knelt at Elrond's side, releasing his wrists from the binding, and he ran his hand lightly over the half-elf's naked body. Elrond tried to flinch from the Man's touch.

Isildur laughed. "There's no point pulling away from me, love, you're mine now. I've taken you, I've possessed you..." His tone became ugly, "You belong to me. Remember that." And with that he got up and walked out of the tent, not caring what he'd left behind.

********************

Ithil was high in the sky by the time Glorfindel was finally able to make his excuses to his friends and head towards Elrond's tent. He was still some way away when he caught the sound of someone crying. His heart sank at the sound and he ran the remaining distance. Pushing aside the tent flap, he stepped into the tent and froze in shock at the sight in front of him.

Elrond lay on his stomach sobbing. He appeared not to have noticed that anyone had entered his tent. Down his back Glorfindel could see thin red weals as if someone had cut him, and blood streaked on his thighs. "No..." he said in shock, not realising that he had spoken aloud until Elrond cringed away from the sound.

Falling to his knees beside the half-elf, Glorfindel put a hand gently on his shoulder. Elrond pulled away violently as if unwilling to bear any touch. "Elrond..." Glorfindel said softly, trying to keep his turbulent emotions from his voice. "What happened?"

At that Elrond suddenly twisted around to look at him, his face streaked with tears, and the blood from his split lip, "What do you think happened? He was here... waiting for me when I got back."

Able to guess what had happened next, Glorfindel tried to stop him speaking, but Elrond continued relentlessly, "He forced himself on me. He RAPED me, Glorfindel. Where were you? You said you'd protect me from him," he ended in an anguished tone.

It felt like he'd been hit, the guilt rising up within him. "You said that you didn't need me. I didn't think he would try anything."

"Why weren't you here for me?" Elrond continued, as if Glorfindel had not spoken.

"Elrond, I couldn't have known what he would do," Glorfindel said, trying to stay calm. "But I'm here now. Let me help you." He moved closer to the half-elf, picking up a blanket and offering it to him to cover his nakedness.

Elrond accepted the blanket, pulling it around his body as he tried to sit up. He winced at the pain from putting pressure on his abused flesh. He still shook, but he was no longer actually crying.

Glorfindel reached over and took hold of a hand. "Elrond, I'm sorry I wasn't here to prevent this. I'm sorry he was able to do this to you."

"That doesn't help me," Elrond replied, bitterly.

"I realise that." A pause. "Elrond, you need to tell Gil-galad what happened."

"No, I can't."

"You must, Elrond."

"I told you before. I can't tell anybody."

"And I accepted it then, but he'd only managed to scare you that time. Now, he's come back and look what he did to you this time... If you don't tell Gil-galad, what's going to stop him doing it again? How many times are you prepared to let him hurt you before you tell anyone?"

Elrond wouldn't meet his eyes, "I'm afraid of what he'll think of me..."

"What he'll... you mean Gil-galad?" Glorfindel asked, confused. "What do you think he might think that you're afraid to tell him?"

"He'll think I'm weak; that I should have been able to stop Isildur."

"Not once you've explained to him what happened. He'll understand. You have to tell him, Elrond."

"I know," Elrond replied, "but I can't..."

"You must. If you won't go then I'll tell him myself," Glorfindel said, knowing that he couldn't keep such an assault a secret.

There was a long moment in which nobody spoke, Elrond appeared to be considering the sentry's words. Finally, he looked up at his friend, "Will you..." he began, then stopped, shaking his head, hesitant.

"Will I what?" Glorfindel prompted.

"Will you come with me... to tell him?" Elrond asked, softly.

"Of course..." And with that, Glorfindel pulled Elrond into his arms; the half-elf accepting his friend's offer of strength for the conversation to come.


	5. Chapter 5

It was late, and Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor, was looking out over the mostly slumbering camp. He could hear, faintly in the wind, the sound of elves singing to the stars, in praise of Varda.

As he listened closer he could hear two elves approaching his tent. He was surprised to see that one of them was his herald, Elrond Peredhel. Although he had requested that the half-elf dine with him this evening, he hadn't been surprised when he didn't come. The half-elf had been unusually quiet these past few days, and Gil-galad could sense that his thoughts had been preoccupied.

Seeing that Elrond was accompanied by one of the sentries, Glorfindel, the elven-lord became concerned that something had happened and hastened to meet them.

"My Lord Gil-galad." It was Glorfindel who spoke, Elrond strangely refusing to look at him. "My apologies for imposing on your time..."

"It is no imposition, Glorfindel," the King replied, "I always have time to spare for those of my people who have need of it." He paused, looking at Elrond, who steadfastly refused to meet his gaze, staring fixedly at the ground instead. The uncharacteristic behaviour disturbed him. "Is something the matter?" he asked, cautiously.

The look that Glorfindel gave Elrond on hearing that question, left Gil-galad in no doubt that something _had_ happened. When his herald didn't respond, he looked to the sentry instead.

Glorfindel frowned, before answering, "It's... a private matter, my lord. Could we discuss this somewhere less open?"

"Of course," Gil-galad replied, leading them into the command tent, holding the flap open for them to enter before following them in and securing the entrance. "We shouldn't be disturbed in here."

Elrond still looked ill at ease, and again the sentry spoke on his behalf, "We need to speak with you. It's... about Prince Isildur..."

Gil-galad was confused as to why any elf would come to him regarding one of the Men, but it was Elrond's reaction that caused him most concern. The half-elf had visibly flinched at the human Prince's name. "What is it you need to say? Elrond?" He hoped that it was nothing serious; their Alliance with the human forces didn't need any more problems to deal with.

For the first time Elrond met the king's eyes, and with that look all his hopes of a simple resolution evaporated. *What could have happened with Isildur to make him look like that* The half-elf's gaze was filled with pain. "Elrond..." he asked again, although he was not sure that he wanted to hear the herald's reply.

Elrond opened his mouth, as if about to speak, but then stopped, hesitant, biting his lower lip, which Gil-galad now noticed was healing from a wound, as if he had bitten through it. He began again, "He... the Prince... he approached me the other night..."

Glorfindel obviously knew what Elrond was about to relate, as he placed a supportive hand on the half-elf's arm. Elrond gave him a grateful look, took a deep breath, and then continued. "He... I... he brought some wine with him, asked if he could join me, I invited him into my tent, I thought it would be a good idea to get to know one of our allies better... but that wasn't quite his intention..."

As Elrond continued to relate what had happened the other night, Gil-galad felt increasingly concerned. It was clear that he would have to speak with Elendil about his son's behaviour; it was too serious to ignore, but he couldn't act against the Man, as Elrond would no doubt wish.

The half-elf finished his account by telling how Glorfindel had come to his rescue, and tried to get him to tell the king. Gil-galad prepared to speak, to ask why Elrond had delayed in speaking to him and what had changed his mind, unsure how to explain how he would have to react to this.

Glorfindel stopped him before he could begin. "That's not all..." he said, looking at Elrond. The herald refused to met his gaze. The sentry sighed, "Tell him what happened tonight, Elrond, or I will..."

Gil-galad felt as if a heavy weight had just landed on his shoulders, surely there couldn't be more? Surely the Prince wouldn't have been so foolish as to... no, it wasn't possible... but what had he done? He looked at his herald uncertainly, "Elrond?"

The half-elf closed his eyes, as if he couldn't bear to see the king's reaction. "He came back tonight," he said.

"And..."

Elrond suddenly turned away, "I can't do this," he cried, in an anguished voice.

"You must," said Glorfindel, taking hold of the other's hands. "You must," he repeated in a gentler tone.

Gil-galad wasn't sure that he wanted to know what the Prince had done. He had seen the agony in Elrond's eyes, and already he hated himself knowing that he would have to add to it. But the half-elf had turned back to face him, ready to continue his account. Gil-galad nodded to him, reluctantly, "Please, continue..." Personal feelings aside, he was the king and he had a responsibility to all his people.

Slowly, painfully, Elrond told the king what had happened that evening; how he had returned to his tent to find Isildur there, how the Man had threatened him with his knife, then tied him up, and finally how the Man had forced himself on him. By the time he finished, his eyes were brimming with unshed tears.

Gil-galad was furious. The thought that a supposed ally would dare do something like that a one of his people was too much to stand. But they needed the human forces to enable them to defeat Sauron.

He was torn. One part of him wanted to do nothing more than show the Prince the full force of an elven-lord revealed in his wrath; the other, the rational side, reminded him that his duty to ensure the stability of the Alliance was more important than his responsibility to his herald.

As he hesitated over his words, the silence in the tent grew heavy. Elrond watched him, and Glorfindel watched Elrond, both waiting for his response. The half-elf was again worrying his lower lip. *How can I do this to him?* Gil-galad wondered, guiltily.

He took a step towards the two of them, reaching a hand out to Elrond. The Lord of Imladris looked at him with hope in his eyes, and Gil-galad's stomach sank, knowing that he was about to dash that hope.

"I'm so sorry for what he did to you, Elrond," he began. Glorfindel looked at him sharply, as if realising that a 'but' would follow. The king paused, needing to reassure them that he was taking this very seriously. "I mean that. I really am very sorry for what happened, but there is very little I can do about it..."

"What?!" Glorfindel cried out, obviously stunned.

"What do you mean?" Elrond asked, his hands clenched at his sides as he attempted to hold back the tears that could be seen forming in his eyes.

Gil-galad closed his eyes, not wanting to see the pain he was causing with his words. "We need the humans in our Alliance. As much as I would like to see Isildur punished, we can't jeopardise the Alliance. The fate of the whole world hangs in the balance..."

"So you're going to allow him to get away with it?" Glorfindel asked, bitterly. "You'll sacrifice Elrond to ensure the stability of our Alliance?"

"No," Gil-galad said, hurt by the accusation. "I'll speak with Elendil; tell him what his son has done. But I'm afraid that all Isildur will get is a reprimand and a warning to stay away from the elves. We can't risk any problems arising from a demand to see the Prince publicly punished, or removed from his command."

"So he gets to wander freely, as if a mere warning would keep him away," Elrond said. "He's mad. He told me that I belonged to him now. He won't stay away unless he's made to."

"Then we'll make sure he stays away, Elrond, whatever gets said," Gil-galad tried to assure his herald. "We'll protect you from him..."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Glorfindel wince, but didn't have a chance to wonder why, as Elrond said, "He said that," indicating towards the sentry. "He told me he'd protect me from Isildur..." he spat the Man's name out, as if the very sound of it sickened him, "...but he couldn't do it. Why should anyone else be able to?"

The tears Elrond had been holding back finally began to fall. Gil-galad wished that he could take back the words that had caused them, but knew that there was nothing else that could be done. He only hoped that Elendil would take the incident as seriously as he did and wouldn't allow Isildur any chance to bother Elrond again.

Guessing that his herald would be shamed by his tears, Gil-galad made no mention of them, but spoke to him gently, as his friend and not his king, "Elrond, nildonya, if there is anything I can do to help you..."

Although he was a bare few centuries older than the half-elf, the king felt an almost paternal affection for him. Having no heirs himself, for he'd never married, Gil-galad tended to treat the Lord of Imladris as a son, and at this moment he felt that his herald needed that kind of unconditional support.

However, Elrond shook his head, instead turning to Glorfindel, as if to draw his strength from the blond sentry. Gil-galad wondered at their closeness. At first he had thought it merely gratitude from Elrond to his rescuer, and protectiveness towards him from the older elf, but now it seemed to him that there was more to it.

Glorfindel met the king's gaze, as he held the half-elf to him, and forced a smile. "I understand that your actions are limited by your responsibilities, my lord. Although I wish it could be otherwise, I realise that you can act no differently." He sighed. "I suppose that we'd better leave you now..."

"And go where?" Gil-galad asked, thinking for the first time of the practicalities of the situation. "I doubt Elrond will want to return to his tent tonight after what just happened, and I presume that you're already sharing with someone..."

"You're right, sire, but what else can we do? At least it's not likely that the Prince will return again tonight."

"But better not to take any chances, surely? Why don't you both stay in my tent tonight?" Gil-galad offered. "And if he can bear anyone else knowing what happened, I'll get one of the squires to clean up his tent in the morning."

Glorfindel went to answer but Elrond spoke up sharply, although without turning back around. "There's no need to speak of me as if I weren't here, you know. But..." He continued more softly, "thank you for your offer, my lord. You're right... I'd rather not return to my tent just yet... so, if you're sure I can stay in yours..."

"Of course I'm sure, it's not a problem... and as for cleaning up your tent?"

Elrond took a deep breath, and then turned to face the king again. "If you can promise me that whoever does it will keep quiet, then yes; if not..."

"I can promise you that much at least," Gil-galad told him. "Now, come, get some rest."

He lead the two of them to his personal tent; Elrond going straight inside, whilst Glorfindel paused at the entrance. "If you could wait a few moments, my lord, I'd like a word with you myself," he said, keeping his voice low, so that Elrond couldn't hear him.

Gil-galad nodded in response.

The sentry then followed Elrond into the tent. Gil-galad, waiting outside, could make out a few whispered words of comfort, then silence. A minute or so later, Glorfindel came back out and indicated that they should walk a little distance away to avoid disturbing Elrond.

"Is he resting now?" Gil-galad asked.

"Yes, for the moment. Though I fear his dreams may be marred my memories of what has befallen him," Glorfindel replied.

"What is it then that you wish to speak with me about, Glorfindel?"

"I merely wish you to relay a message to Elendil when you speak with him tomorrow."

"And that is..."

"That if his son dares to approach Lord Elrond again, then I will not hesitate to ensure that he suffers as painful a death as I am capable of. I died once in protecting his family at the Echoriath, what less could I do for the sake of Eärendil's son?"

"So your love for him is solely a desire to protect him?" Gil-galad asked, casually.

Glorfindel smiled. "No," he said, "my feelings for him run much deeper than that. But it may be that to protect him was why I was permitted to return from Mandos' Halls."

They stood in silence for a time, before Glorfindel said, "I ought to get back to him..."

"Indeed. And..." Gil-galad hesitated for a moment. "I'll tell Elendil that I won't be responsible for your actions if the Prince fails to heed his warnings."

"Thank you." With that, Glorfindel returned to once again keep a night long vigil over the half-elf.

Nor did Gil-galad, the High King, rest that night, passing the hours until dawn preparing to speak with the human king, and vowing that he would protect his herald for as long as he was able.


	6. Chapter 6

Elrond was quiet on the march the following day. Glorfindel stayed close, unwilling to allow the half-elf far from his sight. He guessed that Elrond was on edge, waiting, as he was, to hear the outcome of Gil-galad's conversation with Elendil.

The king had only been able to spare them a brief moment that morning, before their forces had set out. He had told them that the meeting had gone as well as could be expected, and that he would tell them more if they came to him at the midday rest.

Fortunately, as the human and elven forces marched in separate groups, they saw neither father nor son during the morning. However, Glorfindel knew that Elrond would not be at ease until he could be certain that he was safe from Isildur.

Elrond was too caught up in his own thoughts to notice the other elf's concerned glances. As the initial shock from the previous night started to wear off, his feelings began to turn from hurt to anger.

*Why should Isildur be able to do this to me and get away with it?* He didn't hold out much hope that King Elendil would be able to control his son, no matter how optimistic Gil-galad might be.

The hours seemed to drag on, as they anticipated their conversation with Gil-galad. Finally, noon came around, and the troops of the Alliance rested for a while. As soon as they were able, Elrond and Glorfindel made their way over to the king.

Hearing their approach, he turned and smiled in greeting. Dismissing his squire, Gil-galad invited them to sit down with him. With the three of them were settled on the ground, the king poured them all drinks from a flask he carried with him.

Glorfindel was the first to speak, breaking the slightly awkward silence. "So, my lord, you were going to tell us what he had to say..."

"Yes, of course," replied Gil-galad. "As I said this morning, it went better than I could have expected. Elendil clearly knows his son's proclivities well, and needed little convincing of the truth of what I had to say. He has promised to speak with the Prince this evening, and will report to me his reaction as soon as they have finished."

"And has he promised to ensure that his son stays away from Lord Elrond in the future?"

"He has, although with some exceptions..."

"What sort of exceptions?" asked Elrond, sharply, becoming irritated at them for speaking over his head, as if he were a child not a warrior in his own right. It was hardly _his_ fault what the Prince had done.

"Only the necessary ones. Whilst he remains in command over some of the human forces, and as long as you are my herald, it will be unavoidable for you to see each other from time to time..." Gil-galad explained.

Elrond didn't look very happy at this thought, and Glorfindel interjected, "That's hardly fair! Is there no other option? Why should Elrond be the one who suffers?"

"Unfortunately, Glorfindel, no one has ever claimed that life is fair. I'm sure that your own experience can attest to that fact. And no, there is no other option, unless Elrond should choose to step down as herald..."

"Certainly not," Elrond stated indignantly. Why did they seem to think that he couldn't answer on his own behalf? Or for that matter, that he would fall apart if he even saw Isildur? He blithely ignored his behaviour over the previous several days. He paused for a moment, before asking, "So, was that the entirety of your conversation with Elendil?"

"Not quite..." the king said, sharing a brief look with Glorfindel. "I...ahh...passed on a message to him, and he assured me that there would be no... repercussions for action taken, if the Prince should fail to listen to his... advice."

Glorfindel nodded, satisfied. Whilst he sincerely hoped that Isildur would keep his distance from then on, he _almost_ wished that the Man would try something so that he could make him pay for what he had done.

Not knowing about their discussion the previous evening, Elrond looked from one to the other, slightly confused. "Is this something I should know about?" he asked.

Hoping that the younger elf wouldn't take offence, Glorfindel explained about the message he had asked Gil-galad to relay to the human king. He needn't have worried. Elrond merely smiled upon hearing the barely veiled threat, whilst inwardly he thought that it wouldn't be _Glorfindel_ who would make the Prince pay if he should harm him again.

Attempting to change the subject to something less emotionally charged, Gil-galad bade Glorfindel speak of the beauty of Gondolin before its fall, and they spent what remained of their rest hour, discussing the glory of lands long since laid waste. Elrond listened silently, their company putting him at ease.

Too soon it seemed, their break was over, and the two armies prepared to continue on their journey. Glorfindel was due his shift on sentry duty, but was reluctant to leave the half-elf. Elrond assured him that he would be fine, and that in fact he would appreciate the time alone, as it would give him an opportunity to think, to sort out his emotions.

The remainder of the day's march passed without incident and, as the evening drew in, the companies halted once more, setting up camp for the night. Elrond retreated to the privacy of his tent, and that was where Glorfindel found him a little while later, when he came to invite the half-elf to dine with him.

To the sentry's surprise, Elrond asked if they would be joining some of the others from Eriador at one of the campfires. Glorfindel, however, was concerned that Elrond was not yet ready to face the other elves and their questions, and said as much.

"I think I know what I am and am not ready for," Elrond said, more fiercely than he had intended. He knew that Glorfindel only had his best interests in mind and had realised, whilst thinking, that his recent behaviour had encouraged the older elf to see him as weak and in need of protection, but he didn't want him to continue treating him like a child.

Left alone with his thoughts during the afternoon's march, Elrond had thought over the previous night's events, trying to come to terms with what had happened. He wasn't prepared to allow the Prince's actions to defeat him. The half-elf's overwhelming emotion now was frustration at the fact that the Man wasn't going to be punished.

Glorfindel, recognising that Elrond's mood had changed, attempted to backtrack on his words. "I didn't mean to sound patronising," he said, "but I've seen the state you've been in recently. I don't want you to push yourself into going out, and then get hurt further by some idle remark."

Elrond sighed. "I do understand," he replied. "I didn't mean to get angry at you either. It's not your fault I've been acting like I have recently. It's just... the more I think about what happened last night... not just with Isildur, but Gil-galad too, the more frustrated I get. I want to see him punished for what he did... I want him to hurt too," he admitted.

"I feel exactly the same," said Glorfindel, "but as Gil-galad said, we need the humans in the Alliance. We can't do anything unless he tries something first."

"And I really don't want him to try something, just so as I can see him punished..."

"No," Glorfindel said, "I doubted you would. But, back to the subject that started this, are you sure you want to join the others tonight? You don't have to."

"I'm sure. I can't hide in here forever, with you or the king shielding me from the world. I am Lord of Imladris, and I have duties to fulfil..." Glorfindel noticed as Elrond spoke that the fire was burning again in his eyes. Unaware, Elrond stood taller, straighter, much as he had before his ordeal.

"Well then," he said in response, "why are we standing around here talking?" He stepped back to the tent entrance, and pulled the flap aside saying, "After you, my lord..."

Meeting the sentry's gaze for an instant, Elrond took a deep breath, then swept out of the tent, although not before Glorfindel caught a glimpse of a quickly suppressed smile. Smiling to himself in return, Glorfindel pulled the flap shut behind him and followed Elrond out into the camp.

Not entirely sure who to look for, Elrond paused, allowing Glorfindel to catch up with him. "So, who do you usually eat with?" he asked.

"Actually, I usually eat with some of my friends from Lindon," Glorfindel said, "but Arvendil again invited us to join him and his brothers tonight..."

Elrond felt a little nervous, he'd been somewhat rude to Arvendil to previous evening down by the water. Hopefully, the other elf wouldn't push to discover what had been bothering him.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Glorfindel asked again, noticing his hesitation.

"I'm sure," said Elrond firmly, as continued on towards their fire before he could change his mind. A quiet voice asked him if it wasn't really too soon to do this, but he resolutely ignored it.

Reaching their destination, Glorfindel called out in greeting to the elves sitting by the fire. One of them stood, the breeze catching his long black hair as he turned, to see the visitors. "Lord Elrond, Glorfindel," he said, "What an honour for you to join us..."

"Thréndir," Elrond responded with a smile, easily slipping into 'Lord of Imladris' mode. He'd known the brothers for a long time; they'd been amongst the original people that he'd led to the sanctuary that was Imladris.

Once Elrond and Glorfindel were both seated beside the campfire, Arvendil began to prepare their meal. Soon, the tempting scent of roast meat filled the air. After a few minutes the food was ready and they settled down to dine.

As they ate, the conversation flowed. Elrond began to feel glad that he'd ignored the urge that said he wasn't ready to face company yet. He found himself joining in and enjoying himself along with the rest of them.

Then, suddenly, his good mood was shattered by a simple question. "So, my lord," Celebrildur, the youngest of the brothers, asked in a mischievous tone, "Arvendil says the two of you hurried off yesterday evening... did anything _interesting_ happen?"

Beside him, Elrond sensed rather than saw Glorfindel tense. A voice, that he didn't recognise, made some neutral comment. After a moment he realised that it had been his. He felt as though he was watching himself from a great distance as he somehow managed to continue a conversation.

Whilst outwardly Elrond remained calm, inside he was in turmoil. It became increasingly harder to suppress the emotions that innocently asked question had evoked. Images of the previous night began to form in his mind.

Glorfindel couldn't understand how the other elves seemed so oblivious to Elrond's distress. He was just trying to think of a way to extricate them from the situation, when Elrond suddenly rose without warning and walked away.

Standing quickly, he made to follow the half-elf, but Thréndir was quicker, blocking his way. "I need to go to him," Glorfindel objected.

"What's going on?" the other elf asked, "Celebrildur was just teasing; the two of you have been rather close recently..."

Glorfindel sighed in frustration, how could he explain without giving too much away? "There's just a lot happened at the moment," he answered vaguely, "every day brings us closer to Mordor..."

Whether he was convinced by Glorfindel's words, or whether he realised that he wasn't going to get a straight answer, Thréndir backed off. "I'm sorry for prying," he said, sounding anything but, "I was just concerned when he went off like that."

"That's understandable," Glorfindel said, "but it's just the trials and tribulations of being a leader." The other elf laughed, and he relaxed, Thréndir wasn't going to push. "Now, if you'll excuse me..." he continued, and stepping past him, Glorfindel headed off.

"Aren't you going to answer the question?" Thréndir shouted after the sentry.

Glorfindel almost laughed, despite the situation, the younger elf was anything if not persistent. "None of your business..." he called back over his shoulder, as once again he found himself hurrying to Elrond's tent.

He needn't have worried. Instead of finding the half-elf in tears as he'd expected, he was simply sitting in the centre of his tent, knees pulled up to rest his chin on and arms wrapped around himself.

"Elrond?" Glorfindel asked, tentatively, unsure if his presence would be welcomed.

Elrond looked up. "I thought you'd come after me," he said. "You could have stayed with them. I'm alright."

"I didn't want to take the risk," Glorfindel replied. He paused, hesitating over his next words. "You probably don't want to hear this right now, but I... care a lot about you..."

The expression on Elrond's face suggested that he didn't quite believe what he'd heard. "You..." He stopped. *He can't have said that... or he can't have meant it that way. Just because that's what you want to hear... But why did he have to say it _now_ * He met Glorfindel's eyes, "You _care_ about me?" he asked.

*What did you have to go and say that for?* Glorfindel reproached himself *Now he won't want you around him anymore...* Aloud, he said, "I'm sorry... I shouldn't have said it... I'll just go now, and leave you be."

He turned to leave, but was stopped by one word, "No." Even without turning again, he could tell that Elrond had stood and walked up to him. "Look at me, Glorfindel," he commanded. There was no trace in his voice of the hesitancy that had marked so much of his behaviour recently.

Glorfindel faced him, meeting the half-elf's gaze steadily. He was surprised by how nervous he felt. Elrond's next words would surely be a rejection.

But he was wrong. Elrond reached out a hand to touch the blond. "You don't know how I've wanted to hear that from you. I thought you just saw me as someone weak and in need of your protection. After all, I'd be dead if it weren't for your intervention..."

"I've never thought of you as weak," Glorfindel assured him. "You are so strong to have survived all that you have. I didn't speak for fear of pressurising you."

Elrond smiled and sighed regretfully, "If only we'd been able to discover this without you having to save me from Prince Isildur..." The pain in his eyes was unmistakable, but there was anger reflected there too.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Glorfindel asked softly, stepping closer to the half-elf.

"I'm sure..."

A moment passed. They stood facing each other, so close, the tension between them taut as a bow spring. Then it snapped. Elrond turned away. "I can't..."

"Elrond..." Glorfindel mentally berated himself for pushing his friend.

"Don't say it..."

"Say what?" the sentry asked, confused.

"Anything," said Elrond. "I'm sorry..."

"You've got nothing to be sorry for," Glorfindel told him. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I shouldn't have said anything..."

"No. It's not your fault either. It's just too soon..." Elrond replied. He turned around to face Glorfindel once again, "It's going to take time for me to truly get over what... what he did to me..."

"I can wait as long as it takes," the sentry told him. "I'll always be here for you."

"Thank you." Elrond smiled sincerely. Then he looked away and silently cursed Isildur. He felt emotionally drained; it seemed as if he'd gone through the whole range of emotions.

Glorfindel recognised his exhaustion. "You need to get some rest, Elrond. Do you want me to stay tonight, or to leave?"

The half-elf hesitated. Although he wasn't comfortable about being left alone, he didn't really think he could rest with the older elf there either.

"If you don't want me to stay just say so, I don't mind..." Glorfindel said, interrupting his thoughts.

"It's not that I don't trust you..." Elrond began.

"It's that you don't trust anyone," Glorfindel finished. Elrond nodded in agreement. "I'll go then, if you need me you know where I am."

"Yes," Elrond said.

Glorfindel smiled at him, then left, closing the tent flap behind him for the second time that evening. Elrond lay down on his bedding, but sleep was a long time in coming...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Chiara for the beta, Pythoness for aiding my research and Granny Gertrude for helping when all else failed


	7. Chapter 7

Isildur stormed out of his father's tent. His eldest son, Elendur was waiting for him outside. "How did it go?" he asked.

"Badly," snapped Isildur. "Somehow he knows about what happened with the half-elf. I should have known that the sentry would cause problems..."

"We offered to deal with him for you last night," Elendur said as he followed his father through the camp away from the king's tent.

"And I should have taken you up on it," the older man replied darkly. "Damn interfering elves. Now I've been ordered to stay away from him. Can you believe he actually threatened me?"

"Who? Grandfather?"

"No, you idiot, that damned elf. Says he'll 'ensure I die a painful death if I go near his precious Elrond again.' And then father has the nerve to say that he won't take any action if I go against his wishes..."

Isildur continued talking, railing against his father's injustice as they made their way back to his tent; Elendur making sympathetic sounds to show he was listening. However, as the older man worked himself up into a rage over his treatment he began to realise that his son wasn't actually paying attention.

"Are you even listening to me?" Isildur turned on his son. *Ungrateful wretch,* he thought. *You give them everything and yet they don't even have enough respect to take _your_ side...*

Elendur murmured a hasty apology just as they arrived back at the Prince's tent. Holding the flap open for his father to go through first, he then followed him inside. Isildur's other sons were already waiting in the tent, and rose as their father entered with their elder brother. Isildur smiled, his anger at Elendur fading at the evidence of the other two's loyalty.

"What did grandfather want to see you for?" Ciryon asked.

His father frowned. "He's found out about the half-elf. Damn elves trying to get me into trouble. I told your brother, I should have let you go after the sentry when you had the chance. Now I've been ordered to stay away."

"Well, you know how close grandfather and that elven-king are..." said Aratan, suggestively. "It makes you wonder what's really going on there, if it's enough to make him favour the elves over his own kin."

"You'd think that he'd be more understanding of my needs," Isildur said, as he seated himself on the cushioned floor of the tent. "It's not even as if I'm asking for much..."

"Let me ease your tension, father," offered Ciryon, kneeling down behind him and pressing the palms of his hands against his father's back. Isildur stripped off his shirt, encouraging his son's ministrations. Elendur began to prepare their evening meal, whilst his youngest brother continued to massage their father's back and shoulders.

"So, what are you going to do now?" Aratan asked. "Surely you're not going to give up on this conquest?"

Isildur laughed; a cruel, mocking laugh, that would have unnerved anyone less used to it. "Not a chance. If I can just get him alone again, I can... persuade him to get the king to lift these ridiculous restrictions."

"How can we help you, father?" Ciryon asked softly, as Isildur leaned back into his firm touch. Distracted by the younger man's attentions, he didn't notice Elendur's worried glance. Aratan, however, did and was concerned by his brother's apparent reluctance to support their father.

He had suspected for a while that Elendur's sympathies lay elsewhere for a while, but now this had confirmed it. It seemed that someone would have to be taking some action shortly, to... overcome his unwillingness.

Isildur closed his eyes, thinking on this awkward situation. He needed a plan that wouldn't get him into trouble with his father if by any chance something went wrong. Mentally he cursed the older man for taking the elves' side in this.

"I'll need one of you to distract his 'babysitter'..." Isildur said, as he worked out a plan; his description of the blond sentry raising a laugh from his boys. The elf did indeed seem to have taken on that role. It was almost a shame that he hadn't quite been successful in protecting his charge, thought Isildur.

"Perhaps Elendur should take that task," said Aratan, with a baleful look at his elder brother. "He doesn't seem to have the nerve to follow through when it comes to something like this."

Isildur frowned, opening his eyes again, and staring at his eldest son. "What's this he says?" he demanded, forcefully.

It was Elendur's turn to frown, as he looked away, unable to meet his father's eyes. "I... I'm concerned that if you continue along this route you will get into considerable trouble, father. It didn't bother me up until now," he hastened to add, "I just fear that disobeying grandfather so openly will have dire consequences..."

"I think you're forgetting who you're talking to," Isildur spoke, calmly but still threatening. He might have risen, his growing anger driving him to violence, had Ciryon not wrapped his arms around his father's chest, bringing him back from the edge.

"Why don't you let him explain himself?" Ciryon whispered softly into his father's ear. As he spoke, his hands resumed their tender caress, soothing him. Sighing as he felt his father relax, he buried his face against Isildur's neck.

Elendur bit his lip to restrain himself from his instinctive response. His brother's relationship with their father, and their father's encouragement of it, was just one more thing that disturbed him.

Isildur had continued to stare at him throughout that exchange and now spoke again. Although he spoke quietly there was no mistaking the dangerous tone in his voice. "Can you explain this... insolence?" he asked.

Knowing that whatever he said it was unlikely to appease his father, Elendur merely spoke the truth. "Your obsession with the elf is putting the entire Alliance at risk, father. The king has done only what he must to ensure its stability. I cannot, in good conscience, assist you in any future plans."

Seeing the fury rising again in their father's eyes, Aratan stepped in, though not to defend his brother. "It's as I said, father. He doesn't have the stomach for this. But you can be assured that Ciryon and I will support you in any way we can."

Isildur smiled at the last statement and then, returning his attention to Elendur, said, "All I'm going to ask you to do is to stop the blond from interfering whilst I speak with Elrond. I'm not asking you to help me in any way."

Elendur sighed and nodded. He wasn't going to be able to persuade his father against his chosen course of action, nor was it worth the problems it would cause to defy him and refuse to obey his orders. "Of course, father," he said, with a defeated tone.

Isildur's face wore a satisfied expression, but nevertheless his next words showed his displeasure with his eldest son. "I think that we need fresh water for our meal, Elendur. Go and fetch some for us." By requiring his son to carry out what should be a squire's duty, Isildur ensured a few moments privacy to discuss his contested plans and made sure his eldest son felt his displeasure.

With the lone objector gone, Isildur set out his plans to his two obedient sons. "As I said, I'll need someone to distract the sentry. That'll be Elendur's task, seeing as I can't trust him with anything else. Then, you two will need to assist me in... subduing the half-elf. I can't risk him calling out for help; if I get caught... well, let's just say that we'd better not get caught."

"When are we going to actually do this?" Aratan asked, impatient to fulfil his duty to their father.

"As soon as possible, I'd hope..." said Ciryon.

"Maybe not," Isildur replied. "I'd prefer to wait until I'm in a position to claim that I couldn't _avoid_ seeing him, should we get caught out. And waiting has one advantage at least; he'll be lulled into a false sense of security. The last thing he'll expect is for me to be biding my time..."

"Are you sure you want to wait it out, father?" Ciryon sounded slightly confused at this apparent change in his father's attitude.

"Of course I don't _want_ to wait," Isildur's tone was dismissive. "However, seeing as not only the elven-king, but also your grandfather appear to be on his side, it's the only thing I can do."

"Well, as I said, we'll help you in any way we can." Aratan sounded disappointed at the idea of having to wait before putting the plan into action.

Isildur smiled, genuinely pleased by their eagerness. "We'll just need to be patient a little while longer, however frustrating it may be to wait. Just until the right opportunity presents itself..."

Pressing himself closer against his father's body, Ciryon said, "And until then, father, allow me to relieve you..."

Closing his eyes as he nodded his acceptance, Isildur could only picture an image of the half-elf offering the same sweet surrender.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Elmyra for beta reading when she was supposed to be writing her dissertation.


	8. Chapter 8

It was nearly two months since they had set out from Imladris, over five years since the Men had left their kingdoms - Arnor and Gondor - but finally the armies of the Last Alliance were within a few days march of the Plain of Dagorlad where they were expecting to face Sauron’s forces.

A council was called for the commanders of each army and their officers. They gathered in the largest command tent: Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor, with his captains, Cirdan, Lord of the Falathrim, Celeborn of Doriath and Amdir, King of the Galadhrim of Lórien and also, Gil-galad’s herald, Elrond Peredhil, Lord of Imladris; Oropher, King of the wood-elves of Greenwood with his sons; Elendil, King of Arnor, with his sons and grandsons, the Lords of Gondor and lastly, Durin IV of Moria with his captains.

Gil-galad and Elendil had ensured that Elrond and Isildur were seated as far apart as possible for although it had been just over a month since the fateful night when the human Prince had assaulted the half-elf there was still considerable tension between them.

Isildur had, at least, avoided openly challenging the half-elf, even if it was still clear from the looks he gave him, that he hadn't given up completely. Of course, those who knew him also knew that there was no chance of that happening. If anything, the fact that he had to leave Elrond alone had actually fuelled his obsession, leaving him convinced that his feelings were reciprocated, and that it was just their leaders keeping them apart.

For his part, Elrond was trying to ignore the Man, hoping that given enough time he would get bored and move on to someone else. At times, when he would catch Isildur staring at him, he would despair, but Glorfindel was always there for him, closer now than ever.

After several minutes of pointless arguments and attempts at one-upmanship, Gil-galad asserted himself as leader of the council. "My friends," he said, and although he hadn’t raised his voice, everyone else fell silent. "The day draws near when our Alliance will be put to the test. In just a few short days we will be facing the dark armies of our mutual enemy, Sauron. We cannot afford to be divided at this challenging time. From this moment forth we must put aside our differences and fight as a united front..."

"If you think I’m going to allow you to lead my people to their deaths, you’d better think again," Oropher interjected, rising to his feet. The King of Greenwood had resisted all attempts to persuade him to accept Gil-galad’s leadership and had insisted on his troops marching under his banner, and his alone. Feelings ran high between the different groups of elves, the bitter legacy of the Noldorian kinslayings.

"We must fight together if we are to defeat him..." Gil-galad responded earnestly. He would have said more, but Celeborn stood, interrupting him.

"Why won’t you listen to reason, cousin," he asked, frustration evident in his voice. "We are all facing the same fate, why not face it together?"

Oropher refused even to look at him as he spoke. "I ceased to claim kinship with you, Celeborn, when you married the Noldor princess." He made that kindred’s name sound like an insult. "We wouldn’t even be in this position had not his..." and here he indicated to Gil-galad, "his treacherous smiths assisted Sauron in his ringcraft."

"Any treachery on their part, they paid for with their lives," Cirdan, the quiet shipwright, reminded him. "But we are not here to apportion blame, Oropher, rather to move forward. Sauron must be defeated. We, here..." and with a gesture he encompassed all present with his words, "we are Arda’s last hope. We must defeat him together."

Mindful of the much respected older elf’s long history with Gil-galad, Oropher attempted a more reasonable tone, "You must understand though, that I cannot follow this... that I cannot abide by the commands of a Noldor. I will act as I must to ensure my people’s safety. But I will not make any promises to respect his orders..."

Sensing even Cirdan’s patience reaching its limits, Amdir, ever the peacemaker, spoke up. "Now is neither the time nor the place for this discussion, friend," he told Oropher, reminding the other king of the presence of the Men and Dwarves. "Sit down and let us make our plans. If you have any specific problems they can be dealt with later, in private." He emphasised the last two words.

Reluctantly, Oropher took his seat again. Loath as he was to accept Gil-galad’s leadership, Amdir, the other Silvan elf, was someone whose opinion mattered to him. Unwillingly he met the High King’s eyes, saying, "Well, carry on. I won’t interrupt you again." With that, he leant back in his seat, his posture revealing his withdrawal from the council.

The human king had remained silent throughout this exchange, but now Elendil spoke, "I agree with Lord Gil-galad. We must be united at this difficult time. I can assure you all of my unwavering support. I will do all in my power to ensure that we defeat this evil."

Murmured words of agreement came from around the tent, though it was noticeable that Isildur appeared not to echo his father’s sentiments. The human Prince seemed oblivious to the fact that his father had spoken at all, staring as he was at Elrond. The look in his eyes suggested that he was incapable of paying attention to anyone but the half-elf.

Elrond, himself, shifted uncomfortably under Isildur’s intense gaze. He turned to look at Gil-galad, seemingly awaiting his next words, but actually attempting to ignore the Man’s stare. Although it couldn’t be told from his face, Isildur was making him feel very nervous.

Calm apparently resumed, Gil-galad began to speak again. "Thank you, Lord Elendil. Indeed, as I was saying, we need to present our enemy a united front. That is why I called this council. We need to work out a joint strategy, together, so we can fight as one force; or else Sauron will find our weak points and exploit them. We cannot afford to give him anything he could use against us..."

Once more, the disturbance came from the representatives of Greenwood, but this time it was Nebrundir who spoke, Oropher’s younger son. "This is intolerable," he stated, "Did you not listen to my father’s words? How can you expect us to accept this outrage?"

Cirdan went to speak, as he had previously, but Thranduil, Oropher’s heir, intervened first. "Sit down, Nebrundir. It is you who is not listening. He said we’d work this strategy out together. Besides, as Lord Amdir said earlier, we can discuss this later, in private, if we’re still unhappy after hearing what he has to say. Perhaps though, it will be what we were planning on doing anyway, and then this won’t be an issue..."

Nebrundir was clearly about to object, but his brother didn't give him the chance. Instead, Thranduil dug his fingers into his arm, pulling him back into his seat.

"Thank you," Gil-galad said, recognising what Thranduil’s intervention on his behalf could have cost the younger elf.

"Don’t think this means I support you," Thranduil told him quickly. "The only person I’m loyal to is my father..." Nevertheless, despite his words, his attitude suggested a willingness to look beyond his father’s narrow view of the world.

Once again, Gil-galad recommenced his speech, finally without interruptions. He spoke at length about the forthcoming battle, suggesting ideas and strategies. Most of his audience listened carefully to his words, evaluating them and formulating their own plans in response. One person, however, was blatantly disregarding the carefully prepared speech in favour of watching Elrond’s every movement.

Feeling that steady gaze upon him, Elrond had difficulty concentrating on his king’s words. He found himself forced to glance over at the human Prince. The Man’s eyes narrowed and he gave the half-elf a predatory smile. Elrond looked away again, tense and somewhat unsettled. It seemed that no matter how much time had passed, Isildur still wasn’t prepared to leave him alone. Elrond shuddered, remembering the Man’s claim of possession.

Knowing that he’d affected the half-elf, Isildur smiled with satisfaction. Looking sideways, he met each of his sons’ eyes in turn. This would finally be the day when he put his schemes into action. Ignoring the frown on Elendur’s face, he signalled to them all that they would go ahead with the plan at the close of the council. Isildur then leant back in his seat, the immensely pleasurable thought of utterly possessing the half-elf filling his mind.

As Gil-galad finished speaking, it was obvious that the discussions relating to his speech would last some time, and it was suggested that a short recess would be in order, to give everyone a chance to think the issues through before debating them. All were in agreement, and so a break was called.


	9. Chapter 9

Leaving his father and younger brother to discuss strategy, Isildur led his sons out of the tent in order that they could speak in private. He paused briefly at the entrance to glare darkly at Glorfindel, who was one of the sentries appointed to keep guard over the meeting. It made the Prince furious when he thought of how the blond elf was trying to take what rightfully belonged to him. Still, once he had Elrond permanently, the sentry could be dealt with.

Once out of earshot of even those elves standing guard, Isildur proceeded to instruct his sons on the roles they were to play in his plans. As he'd expected, Elendur began to object. However, he was cut off before he could get very far. "I don't care what you think. All you need to do is what I'm telling you. When the council ends you are to go up to the sentry and ask to speak with him. It doesn't matter what you say, just so long as you keep him distracted for long enough that we can deal with the half-elf."

For a moment it seemed that Elendur would resist, but then he sighed and yielded. "Yes, father," he said, softly, making a show of submission.

Satisfied, Isildur then turned to his younger sons, "And you two know your roles too, don't you?"

"We're only there to support you should the half-elf try to resist..." Aratan replied, sounding as if he were reciting something he knew by heart.

Isildur smiled at this proof of his sons' fealty. "And if he should resist?" he prompted further.

"Then we're to help you in any way you deem necessary to restrain him long enough to hear you out." It was Ciryon who answered this time.

"Indeed." Isildur paused briefly and looked over his sons as they stood before him, prepared to demonstrate their loyalty. He met each of their eyes again, then nodded as if in acceptance of something unsaid.

Meanwhile, back at the command tent, Elrond was in deep conversation with Glorfindel. The sentry was trying to convince Elrond that Gil-galad should be made aware of the way Isildur was acting. "Unless you tell someone, he's going to think he can get away with it," he told the half-elf.

"I just feel like I'm making a fuss about nothing," Elrond replied. "I don't want to bother the High King with this when he's got so many more important concerns."

"I doubt he'd consider your well-being to be _nothing_ ," said Glorfindel, though he knew that trying to persuade Elrond was like trying to get water to flow uphill. If he was determined, nothing and no-one could change his mind. Glorfindel sighed, "I didn't much like the look the Prince gave me either."

Elrond looked at him, frowning slightly, "What do you mean? Why would he want to treat you badly?"

Glorfindel gave Elrond an exasperated look, "Because I foiled his plans the first time around? And then got you to tell Lord Gil-galad what had happened? Or because I threatened him? Or maybe the fact that I dare to be close to you?" The blond laughed gently, "I've given him more than enough reasons to be hostile towards me, melme."

Elrond flushed at that term of endearment, and looked about nervously, checking that no-one else was around who could have heard. Their nascent relationship was still something that they wanted to keep to themselves, neither of them wanting to become the subject of gossip.

Nonetheless, Glorfindel sighed at the reaction. He sometimes worried that he was pushing Elrond into this relationship, and feared that he was causing the half-elf pain just by his love for him. However, it was Elrond who had pushed him into revealing his true feelings, and he had claimed to share them, it just seemed that he wasn't ready for such a bond. It was hard though, for the older elf to hold back from offering the affection he so desperately wanted to give.

"Do you think he'll try anything?" Elrond asked.

"I wouldn't put anything past that brute," Glorfindel answered without thinking, then just as quickly cursed himself for it, seeing the expression on Elrond's face.

"Even after his father's censure and your threat?" the half-elf asked, sounding far from the powerful, confident elven-lord Glorfindel knew him to be.

He hastened to repair the damage his careless words had done. "It won't matter whatever he tries," Glorfindel attempted to reassure him. "I _won't_ let him harm you, nor would anybody else in there..."

" _I_ won't let him hurt me again," Elrond replied, "I'd just rather he didn't try anything in the first place."

"And you think he will?"

"I don't know. That's why I was asking you. I just know that I didn't like the way he was looking at me in there," said Elrond.

Looking away briefly, Glorfindel remembered the hatred he'd seen numerous times in the Man's eyes, directed at him, and the barely concealed lust he'd seen on those occasions he'd caught him staring at Elrond. He shuddered, and meeting Elrond's eyes, he saw that his reaction hadn't been missed.

"If he makes _you_ feel like that, you can imagine how uncomfortable he makes me..." Elrond said. As he looked up he could see that people were beginning to head back into the tent.

"You'd better go back in," Glorfindel said. "Don't worry. I'll be here waiting for you when it finishes."

"Unless you're still on duty," Elrond pointed out.

Glorfindel shrugged. "I'm sure you'll be allowed to wait around until I finish if you want to avoid Prince Isildur."

Elrond gave him a small smile, "Thank you." Then he took a deep breath, before sighing, "Oh well, here we go again. I'll see you later," and without looking back he went on into the command tent.

*****  
For Elrond the second part of the council seemed to drag on for what felt like hours. Oropher seemed determined to oppose every point made, simply on principle, and it was only his son Thranduil's intervention, and that of Amdir of Lórien, that prevented him from storming out on a number of occasions. In addition, the dwarves, who hadn't taken part in the earlier disagreements, made up for this by their insistence on taking the Men's side in any difference of opinion and exacerbating the situation.

Every possible approach was argued back and forth, down to the smallest detail. Finally, after much debate, it was decided who would take each flank and what their basic plan of attack would be. However, neither Gil-galad, nor anyone else present, had been able to convince Oropher of the necessity for a joint strategy. The most he would concede to was, that he would take into account what had been discussed in deciding upon his own tactics. They could only hope that his pride would allow him enough latitude that he wouldn't totally disregard the suggestions that had been given him.

Decisions made, Gil-galad and Elendil conferred briefly before calling a halt to the meeting. All that now remained was for each commander to give the appropriate orders to their own forces before they next set out. Elrond leaned back in his seat, the immediate tension ebbing away, only to be replaced by a different sort of tension as he accidentally met Isildur's eyes.

To Isildur, the council had seemed to pass as if in a blur, the dual peaks of desire and anticipation contriving to leave him unaware of anything but the half-elf. His whole attention had been focused on Elrond, and it was doubtful that he had heard a single word spoken by anyone other than him. As Elrond looked around the tent, Isildur's gaze had followed him, finally catching his eye. The contact was only held for an instant before Elrond looked away and Isildur was pulled back into the real world.

He turned to find his sons. Aratan was in conversation with his uncle, Anárion; Elendur had already risen from his seat, awaiting only his command to carry out his duty, and Ciryon was watching him, a strange expression, almost like jealousy, on his face. Isildur stood, nodding at Elendur who immediately headed out of the tent, and looking over at the other two.

Noticing his gaze, Aratan ended his conversation and made his way across the tent to where his father and younger brother stood, conveniently blocking the tent's only entrance. He looked about for Elrond, and saw the Lord of Imladris talking to two of the other elves who'd been present. Facing Isildur he asked, "What now, father? We just wait here?"

"Where else?" was his answer. "He'll have to pass us to leave, we can... accost him then." He paused for a moment, then, "On second thoughts, just the two of you go after him and I'll catch you up, there's less chance of me being caught that way."

Elrond was only paying limited attention to the discussion he was having with Cirdan and Celeborn. The fact that Isildur and his sons were still present, and not only that, but were blocking his exit too, was distracting him from their words. Not realising the cause of his distraction, and irritated by the half-elf's seeming indifference to their conversation, Celeborn dismissed Elrond, telling him, "You might as well leave now. I'm sure Lord Gil-galad will inform you if we discuss anything of importance..."

Startled back into awareness, Elrond attempted to apologise, but Cirdan waved it away. "Truly, nildonya," he said gently, "There is no need for you to be present any longer. Don't worry, neither of us will be offended if you leave."

It wasn't fear of giving offence that had worried Elrond, but instead the prospect of having to pass the human Prince and his sons in order to leave. He glanced quickly over at them, but it appeared they were absorbed only in their own conversation. Forcing a smile for his companions, Elrond took his leave, then turned, taking a deep breath before walking hurriedly past Isildur.

*****  
Outside, Elendur had succeeded in drawing Glorfindel away from the council tent, telling him that he was concerned about his father's intentions towards the Lord of Imladris. Glorfindel had, unsurprisingly, instantly believed him, as Isildur had predicted he would. And as Elendur _was_ genuinely concerned about his father's behaviour, the elf would have been unable to detect any dishonesty even if he had been searching for it.

Leading them both some distance away, Elendur revealed that he was aware of all that had already transpired between Elrond and his father, and furthermore, that he knew about Elrond and Glorfindel's relationship. Glorfindel questioned him on his source of knowledge and was distressed to hear that Isildur was still watching Elrond closely.

"He won't listen to anyone's advice on this," Elendur said, "and I know that grandfather, that is, King Elendil, _ordered_ him to stay away and he's ignoring that too. I didn't know what else to do..."

"But why come to me?" Glorfindel asked, it beginning to occur to him that this could be part of a trap organised by Isildur. He realised, too, that if it was, he was now too far away to help Elrond.

"Because I know that you're close to him," Elendur replied, trying to keep the urgency out of his voice, he needed to give his father more time, "...and because he told me that he considered you a threat. I thought that if anyone could turn him from this course of action it would be you."

Accepting this explanation, but senses alert for any sign of deception, Glorfindel prompted Elendur to continue. The Man told him everything he could think of about his father's obsession with the half-elf, and although he was only telling him as part of the plan, it was a relief to be able to tell anybody at all. However, as he slowly revealed all that he knew, Glorfindel gradually started to think that he was concealing something, and his concern for Elrond grew.

Eventually, he could hold back his misgivings no longer, and demanded outright, "Is this another of your father's plans? Why are you _really_ telling me this?"

Elendur had no answer for him.

*****  
In the meantime, Elrond was learning that Isildur had no intention of ever letting him go.

He had thought momentarily that he was safe. Walking past Isildur and out of the tent had yielded no immediate reaction. Once outside, he had looked around for Glorfindel, then, not seeing him, had turned to ask one of the other sentries where he'd gone. Suddenly, Isildur's sons were on either side of him.

He had tensed.

Aratan had then taken hold of his right arm, saying, "Come, my lord. Now don't be like that. All we want is a nice, friendly chat..." Elrond had not been able to spot Isildur, and, not wanting to cause a scene for no reason, had allowed the two younger Men to lead him away.

However, a short distance from the command tent, Isildur had caught up with them. Elrond, having no intention of speaking to the Man, had pulled his arm free of Aratan's grip and made to leave. Isildur's words stopped him in his tracks, "If you want to see your friend again, I'd suggest you at least hear me out."

Elrond had turned back sharply, a sick feeling in his gut, "What do you mean?"

Isildur had smiled, wearing a smug expression that had left Elrond feeling even more concerned, "I'm sure you are intelligent enough to know what I'm talking about, melme." Elrond had flinched, hearing the Man's tone make a mockery of that term of affection. Of course, he could well guess at what Isildur meant, and he wasn't going to risk Glorfindel for the sake of his pride. The other elf meant too much to him for that, and he could at least listen to what Isildur had to say.

He had nodded, "Very well, what do you have to say for yourself?" Staring straight at Isildur, he had attempted to ignore the presence of the Man's sons. This was between himself and their father; there was no need for him to pay them any attention.

So Isildur had begun to speak, his customary arrogance fading as he pleaded with Elrond not to keep pushing him away. It was as if he didn't even realise what he had done to the half-elf, as he told him how much he loved and cared for him. When Elrond had asked in disbelief how he could justify his assault, Isildur tried to claim that it had been entirely consensual.

"I wanted to be with you from the moment I first set eyes on you, long ago in Imladris, and I knew you felt the same way," he told him. "Your beauty took my breath away, and yet you seemed to me something real, the one being within my reach, amongst all those ethereal elves. I longed to be close to you, but the only time we saw each other was with me at my father's side, or with you at your lord's."

It was almost too much for Elrond to take. How could he bear to hear this... this _Man_ declare his love from him, after all he had done. And then to claim that he shared those feelings... Feeling himself close to losing control, he had turned to leave, knowing that, no matter how justified he would be, it would still be a bad idea to hit the Man.

However, it seemed he had forgotten a vital fact, the presence of Isildur's sons. The moment that he began to turn away they were at his side, faster than he would have expected Men to be capable of moving, and they each grabbed hold of an arm.

Elrond struggled hard against them; he wasn't drugged this time, nor frozen with fear, he'd show Isildur not to mess with an elven-lord. He'd nearly succeeded in freeing one arm when Isildur took hold of him by the shoulders and shook him, hard.

"Why are you being like this?" The Man's tone sounded genuinely confused. "No-one else is around, you don't need to keep up this pretence..."

Uncomprehending, Elrond briefly stopped fighting to stare at him, "Pretence?" he asked. "What are you talking about?"

Isildur released the half-elf's shoulders, and ran his hand gently down Elrond's face. It was a lover's touch, making this whole situation all the more confusing for Elrond. "Please, don't be like this," said the prince, "I know you want me too, why won't you just admit to it?"

Elrond hadn't thought that anything Isildur could say would shock him, but this did. "What are you talking about?" he said, pulling away from the Man's touch. "I don't want you. I never wanted you. You _raped_ me!" Feeling increasingly worried, he again tried to free his arms.

"No!" Isildur's eyes seemed to fill with pain. "That's what they told you, what they've made you say. It's not true."

Elrond resisted the urge to panic. It wouldn't help him here. He needed to stay calm, to somehow convince Isildur of the truth. *I don't know if this is what he really thinks, or if he's just a very good actor* he thought, as he struggled against Aratan and Ciryon's grips. "Then what is true?" he asked, not sure if he _wanted_ to hear the Man's answer.

"You belong to me," Isildur told him. "We belong together. And I know that you can't admit to it in public, but we're alone now, you don't need to pretend anymore..."

Finally managing to free his arms, Elrond stepped towards him, almost convinced by his words that the Man was insane, that this was what he thought. "I don't belong to anyone but myself," he told Isildur softly, "You have to listen to me..."

He was caught off-guard as Isildur suddenly struck out at him, knocking him to the ground. It seemed that Elrond had again underestimated Isildur's capacity for deception. Once again the Man smiled down at him cruelly as he pinned the half-elf to the ground. "You'll belong to me once I'm done with you," he assured him, "I promise you that..."

And Elrond found himself struggling against the Prince one more time, with everything at stake.

*****  
It was obvious that the sentry had asked out of suspicion, but Elendur didn't know what more he could say to convince him, what more he could do to keep him occupied. He didn't even know if he wanted to keep the elf occupied. Torn between needing to obey his father and wanting to do the right thing, he stood, undecided. But before he could come to a decision, Glorfindel took advantage of his momentary hesitation and left.

Elendur made to head after the elf, but realised that it would be likely to draw questions he didn't need, so he followed his next inclination... he went to find his grandfather. He found the older Man more or less where he'd expected to, speaking with Gil-galad in one of the smaller command tents. The two kings had been standing close together, but moved apart as he entered. However, now he was there, Elendur wasn't sure how he could explain things to them, and so just stood, silent.

"Is something the matter, Elendur?" Elendil asked, sounding concerned.

He opened his mouth to reply, but no words would come out. His mind seemed to have gone blank.

Gil-galad stepped forward, "Prince Elendur," he said, "Was there something you needed to speak to us about?"

Finally, Elendur managed to form the necessary words, "Your herald... Elrond... they..."

Elendil interrupted, horrified, "They? Who? Not your father, surely? What have they done?"

Faced with that barrage of questions, Elendur could only focus on one thought, that he wouldn't get punished if he could keep his father out of trouble. This decision made, he replied. "No, not father," he lied, "Aratan and Ciryon. They said something about 'teaching the half-elf a lesson in respect.' I didn't think they'd actually _do_ anything, especially after father told them not to, but..." Elendur could tell by the looks on his grandfather and the elven-king's faces that he'd said enough. He could only hope now, that his father would take the loophole he'd offered him.

"Do you know where they are?" Gil-galad asked.

Elendur was able to say in all honesty that he didn't, that he'd last seen them at the council. Fortunately, they didn't press him on what he'd been doing in between then and the end of the council, as he hadn't yet thought up a way of justifying his conversation with Glorfindel.

Leaving him behind in the tent, the two kings made their way to find Elrond, hoping that they would be in time to prevent anything from happening. Once they'd gone, Elendur was able to relax, at least for a short while, before he had to deal with the consequences of his lies. *There has to be a way of explaining everything without admitting to father's part in it all,* he thought. *But am I prepared to take some of the blame, in order to allow him to get off?*

*****  
As fast as he could, Glorfindel had made his way back towards the now deserted command tent. He hadn't really expected to find anyone there, but it was as good a place as any to start looking.

However, as chance would have it, he came upon one of the other sentries making his way back to his own quarters. "Have you seen Lord Elrond recently?" he asked, urgently.

"Well, I saw him leave the council tent..." the other elf replied, brow furrowing in concentration. "Strange though..."

"Why strange?" asked Glorfindel, "And did you see where he went?"

"That's what was strange about it. Two of the young human princes - I don't know which ones, I can't tell them apart - well, they practically followed him out. Spoke to him for a moment, then they all headed off towards the Men's part of the camp. Why? Is something wrong?"

Glorfindel felt his heart sink as the sentry said that Elrond had gone off with Isildur's sons. It seemed he'd been right to be suspicious. "I can't stop to explain," he told him, "I just need to find them quickly." He was just about to go after them, when another thought occurred to him. "I don't suppose you saw if Prince Isildur went with them, did you?"

The sentry seemed surprised by the question. "Come to think of it, no, I didn't see him leave at all," he replied. "Is it important?"

"No, I just wondered," Glorfindel said. "Thanks for your help." And with that he headed off in the same direction as they had gone, hoping that he wouldn't be too late.

He found them quickly, only a short distance from the main command tent, but in an area where few were likely to intrude this late in the evening.

From his position, a little removed from where they stood, the situation didn't look good. Elrond was struggling against not only Isildur, but his sons too. Although the Lord of Imladris could have taken any one of them in a fight, the three of them had him outnumbered.

As Glorfindel watched, one of Isildur's sons, he couldn't tell which in the falling darkness, managed to get his forearm across Elrond's throat and began to choke the half-elf. It was at this point that Glorfindel intervened.

Knowing that Elrond would no doubt prefer to face Isildur himself, the blond elf first took care of the Man not immediately involved in the fight, who, on close inspection, turned out to be Aratan. The young Man sank to the ground unconscious, as Glorfindel turned his attention to the actual fight.

It appeared that his actions had already drawn their attention to him, Ciryon's momentary distraction allowing Elrond to free himself from the grip on his throat; Glorfindel took satisfaction in the shocked looks on their faces. Obviously Elendur had been supposed to keep him occupied longer than he'd actually been able to.

Now facing their opponents in an apparently fair fight, it took little time for the two elves to overpower the two Men. But Isildur had one last trick up his sleeve, or rather one last weapon. Just as it seemed that Glorfindel had succeeded in defeating his son, Ciryon drew his dagger, pressing it to the elf's throat.

Elrond froze, staring at the scene unfolding before his eyes. Isildur picked himself up off the ground, laughing. He took three steps towards Elrond, but the half-elf backed away. "It seems that I hold all the winning cards here..." the Man said. "Your friend is completely at my mercy. But give yourself to me willingly and I will free him unharmed."

Elrond didn't know what to do; he couldn't surrender to Isildur, but neither could he allow Ciryon to hurt, or even kill, Glorfindel. He hesitated, hoping for some last minute miracle.

And then it happened. "Might I enquire exactly _what_ is going on here?" a voice asked, a very familiar voice. Then Gil-galad and Elendil both stepped forwards, out of the growing shadows.

"Well?" It was Elendil who spoke this time. "Does anyone want to explain?"


	10. Chapter 10

Unsure of what to say, Elrond hesitated, but Isildur had no such qualms. He knew how the scene must look to the two kings, and sought to offer an alternate explanation. "I'm sorry, my lords, I must take full responsibility for this situation..."

It was the last thing any of them had expected him to say, but while they were still off-balance, he continued, "Although Aratan and Ciryon were acting against my express commands, that doesn't mean that I shouldn't be responsible for their actions..."

That was a lie that Elrond wasn't prepared to let the Man get away with. " _Their_ actions..." he exclaimed, "What about your own actions? You cannot deny the part you played in this..."

Elendil cut off their disagreement, before it could go any further, "We will discuss this shortly, in private." He turned to his grandson, who was still holding his knife to Glorfindel's throat. "Release the elf, Ciryon," he said, in a tone that broached no argument.

Ciryon paused but a moment, tempted to slit the sentry's throat while he had the chance, but he realised that such an action was likely to get him, and his father, into far too much trouble. Sheathing his blade, he stepped away from the elf.

Glorfindel looked to Gil-galad for his response, knowing that his own instinctual reaction - wanting to rip the lying bastard's throat out - would cause too many repercussions to be worth any possible advantage gained by it.

Gil-galad and Elendil shared a brief look of understanding, then the elven-king spoke, "I think it would be best for us to speak to you separately, to spare us any more conflict." He paused, and for a fleeting instant looked as though he were carrying the weight of every day that he'd lived, then it was gone and he just sighed.

Elendil continued from where the elf had left off, "We'll go back to Lord Gil-galad's tent, and speak with you there. Isildur, would you go and fetch your other son? We left him in one of the small command tents..."

Glorfindel interrupted here, "You can't be meaning to let him wander off on his own. After what just happened?"

The human king gave him a measured stare. "And where do you think he's likely to go?" he asked. "The enemy are everywhere..."

Reluctantly Glorfindel accepted this, and allowed Isildur to leave. Meanwhile, Elrond moved closer to his friend, as Ciryon knelt down beside his brother, drawing their attention back to him.

"Your work, Glorfindel?" Gil-galad asked, sounding almost faintly amused.

"I just put him to sleep for a while," Glorfindel answered, keeping his smile from his face but not from his voice.

"Just as well," said Elendil, almost as an aside. Then he added, "You'd better walk with me, Ciryon."

The younger Man protested. "But who's going to bring Aratan?"

"I'll carry him," Glorfindel said, then, as the Man glared suspiciously at him, continued, "I didn't hurt him and I won't now, and that's more than you would have done in my position."

Ciryon didn't deny that accusation.

They made their way back to the High King's quarters. Elrond walking beside Gil-galad, Ciryon with his grandfather, and Glorfindel bringing up the rear, carrying the unconscious prince.

Upon reaching their destination, he lowered his burden to the tent floor and prepared to rouse him from his induced slumber. Aratan shifted restlessly for a moment, then awoke. The two kings had spoken together and now stood waiting for Isildur's return so they could make their decision known.

After a couple of minutes Isildur and Elendur entered the tent, the older Man looking strangely satisfied for some reason. He stood alongside his sons, affecting a meek expression, though neither king was particularly impressed by it.

"We have decided to speak with you first, Isildur," said Gil-galad, looking straight at the Man. He then turned to Elrond and Glorfindel, "If the two of you want to get yourselves some food before returning, that should give us enough time."

"Yes, my lord," said Glorfindel, interrupting Elrond before he could say anything. He could sense that the half-elf wasn't too happy with this turn of events.

Elrond took a deep breath before answering, "Thank you, my lords. Then we will speak with you shortly..." He might perhaps have said more, had not Glorfindel taken his arm, leading him out of the tent.

*****  
Once outside, Elrond pulled his arm free, demanding of Glorfindel, "Why would you not let me speak?"

Glorfindel walked a little way off before answering, so that their conversation could not be overheard from within the tent. "You will get your chance to say what you will later. There was nothing to be gained from speaking up in front of Isildur, he would only have denied your words and you would have ended up arguing."

"I just wanted to make sure he couldn't convince his father of his lies, before he'd heard my side of things," said Elrond, following Glorfindel on into the main part of the camp.

"I know," Glorfindel replied, "But even if Lord Elendil _does_ believe the Prince's lies, Lord Gil-galad will believe _you_. And if the human king is biased enough to keep believing in his son even after hearing your version of events, then you wouldn't have been able to convince him anyway."

"That's not very comforting," Elrond said, but he knew that his friend was right. It was just frustrating to be sent away like that, to have to wait to put forward his side of the story. However, it was no use dwelling on the situation, and they soon arrived at the main campfire.

The two elves joined the throng of those who couldn't, or couldn't be bothered to, prepare their own meals, waiting for the camp cooks to dish out their rations. After not too long a delay, they were able to collect their food, and found a quiet place to sit and eat before they had to return to their lord's tent.

*****  
With them gone, Gil-galad turned back to the Men. "You may be seated," he said, waiting until they had taken their positions on the cushioned floor before sitting down himself, facing them, Elendil at his side.

It was Elendil who spoke. "I hope you've got a good explanation for this incident," he said, his tone filled with disappointment, "Especially since I expressly forbade you from going near Lord Elrond." It seemed that he was addressing Isildur though it was Ciryon he was looking at.

Isildur's tone, in reply, sounded resentful, "So you'd rather I left them..." indicating his two younger sons, "to hurt him, just to avoid going near him myself?" He shook his head as if to reject that notion. "I had hoped to stop them before things went too far, but..."

Aratan, who had suppressed his surprise on hearing his father's story, now spoke sullenly, "We didn't do anything wrong. It was Father you forbade from approaching the half-elf, not us. We didn't mean any harm..."

"You didn't mean any harm? What _did_ you intend then?" Gil-galad asked, pointedly.

Sensing his father's anxiety, and realising that whatever story he'd concocted could rely on their response to this point, Ciryon answered, "I wanted to make him understand. And I wanted him to realise that he couldn't get away with rejecting Father like that..."

"Make him understand what, Ciryon?" Elendil asked.

The younger Man hesitated, looking over at his father before replying. Isildur's expression was blank, but there was no censure in his eyes. Ciryon knew that he was free to answer as he wished. "Understand what Father feels for him, understand how much his rejection hurt him. But he wouldn't believe us..."

"And he wouldn't believe Father either," Aratan interjected, hoping that he was doing the right thing here. "He only came to tell us to let Lord Elrond go, but the elf demanded to know if what we'd said was true. Well, Father said it was, and that was when he tried to hit him."

"And unfortunately that's just about when his friend arrived," Isildur continued. "I know it can't have looked good, but really, nothing was happening." He sighed, "I know I can't expect you to believe me, but it's the truth..."

"And is that what Lord Elrond will say?" Elendil asked. "Or will _he_ have a different story?"

Isildur glowered at his father, "I should have known you'd take the elf's side..."

"I'm not taking anyone's side," the human king objected, "I'm just not prepared to take you on your word when you've lied to me before." He turned to his other grandson present, "You haven't said anything yet, Elendur. What part did _you_ play in all of this?"

Elendur finally looked up. "I knew what they were planning," he admitted, "But I didn't want to be involved, so I just agreed to keep the other elf busy, so as he couldn't interfere..."

"And what prompted the change of heart?" Gil-galad asked. The elven-king had been intending to leave the questions to his friend, but was genuinely curious. He sensed that Isildur's eldest son was the one who was most likely to be trustworthy.

"It just felt wrong," Elendur said, "I felt so guilty about doing it." He glanced over at his father and brothers, but decided that the truth was the best option, or some semblance of it at least. "Even though Aratan had said it would only be them... speaking to Lord Elrond, I was afraid that it was one of Father's plans. I know that he hurt him before..." He paused, this was the knife-edge on which he was balanced - whether he should tell the truth and reveal his father as a liar or lie himself and hope to be believed.

His grandfather prompted him to continue, "And what do you think now? Was this one of your father's plans?"

Elendur daren't look at his father as he spoke, "No. I believe he's telling the truth."

Isildur had to fight to keep his relief from his face. For a moment he'd actually thought that Elendur would betray him. Struggling to keep his composure, he met his father's eyes, and was surprised by the look he found there.

Elendil _wasn't_ convinced by his son's story, but he could see that it offered an easy compromise that he wasn't about to throw away. If he could just persuade Gil-galad, and then the two elves, then maybe they could avoid some of the potential political consequences of this incident.

Gil-galad couldn't think of anything else to say. He had a feeling that the Man wasn't telling anything close to the whole truth, but he couldn't say for certain what was the lie and what wasn't. However, before he could speak, he heard footsteps approaching his tent; soft, elven footsteps - Elrond and Glorfindel had returned.

*****  
The Men left the tent; Isildur glaring at Glorfindel on his way past, as was customary, but now the look held little to fear for the elf. Isildur was sure that they were expecting to hear how he was to be punished, and almost wished he could stay to see the looks on their faces when they realised that he wouldn't be.

"What will happen now, father?" Aratan asked, understandably nervous, as he wasn't aware of what was going on.

Isildur smiled. "I'm going to get off again, that's what will happen."

"And we're going to be your scapegoats," Ciryon continued bitterly.

Isildur looked at him in surprise, "You make it sound like something terrible's going to happen. What's the worse they can do to you?"

"Send us away?" the younger Man suggested.

Isildur frowned. "They couldn't. We need you here too badly..."

"You mean _you_ need him here too badly," muttered Elendur, under his breath.

Although Isildur wasn't able to catch his words, they caught his attention. "Well, son," he said, "It seems that I was wrong to doubt your loyalty. You did well."

Elendur looked up at him. "Really?" he asked, taken aback, "But I only did it so you wouldn't be angry with me over my failure to keep the sentry occupied."

"You couldn't have done better if it'd been part of the plan from the beginning," his father assured him. "It's all because of you that I'm not going to get into any trouble."

"But what about us?" asked Aratan, still confused.

"It'll all be sorted out, you'll see," was all Isildur would answer, leading them back to the main campfire of the Men's camp. He maintained this refusal to answer as they collected their food and they ate in silence.

*****  
Once the Men had left, Elrond and Glorfindel entered Gil-galad's tent, taking the seats Isildur and his sons had just vacated.

Elrond spoke first. "So I suppose you now want to hear my version of events, do you?" he asked.

The two kings shared a look, then Gil-galad replied, "Well, you can if you'd like, though we can guess what really happened from reading between the lines of what we've already been told. In any case, I doubt that anything you could say would affect our decision. What we really need to discuss with you is our response..."

"I don't understand," Elrond said. "How can you have already come to a decision? And why do you need to discuss your response? If you realise what actually happened then surely you're going to punish him? What is there to discuss?"

Elendil chose to reply, knowing that the half-elf would no doubt accredit the proposal to him anyway. "They've prepared a story between them, or at least they all stuck to the same one, that paints the whole situation in a different light. _We_ all know that it's not the truth, but it sounds convincing, and anyone they told it to would believe them. We're going to ask you to accept this version..."

"But what difference will it make?" asked Elrond. "Whichever way he twists the situation, he still attacked me again. Why should his version be any preferable to mine?"

"For the same reason that I reacted the way I did last time," said Gil-galad, "The fact that we can't afford any dissension within our alliance. Especially not now..."

"What?!" Glorfindel exclaimed. "You mean you're going to let him go unpunished..."

Gil-galad held up a hand to stop his outburst. "Relax, Glorfindel," he said, "We're not letting this go unpunished... it's just that their explanation puts the weight of the blame onto Prince Isildur's sons, rather than himself."

Elrond now spoke up, "Perhaps you'd better explain exactly what it _is_ you're proposing to do?"

Gil-galad clarified their intentions, assuring Elrond that even though Isildur wasn't being openly punished he _would_ suffer the consequences of his actions. Eventually, despite Glorfindel's protest that Isildur was getting off too lightly, their proposition was accepted, and they settled down to await the Men's return.

They didn't have long to wait before the elves were able to hear heavy footsteps approaching. Elrond rose, unwilling to be present to watch Isildur once more get away with assaulting him.

"Must you leave, Elrond?" Gil-galad asked.

"I can't bear to see his face when he hears he's been let off again," said Elrond.

"But you understand why, don't you?" asked Elendil.

"Oh yes," Elrond said, bitterly, "I understand. Stability of the alliance and all that... if you'll excuse me..."

"Of course," Gil-galad said sadly, as the half-elf stalked out of his tent.

No-one was surprised that Glorfindel should rise to follow him out. "My lords," he said, making the words sound like a question.

Gil-galad sighed, "I can't allow him to leave and then expect you to stay, go on, go after him."

"Thank you, sire," and with that he, too, left.

Still seated, Elendil looked over at the elven-king and heaved a sigh, "I suppose we'd better deal with my ass of a son then, hadn't we?"

Gil-galad smiled ruefully, "I'll allow you to call him in."

"Thanks, my friend," Elendil replied, sardonically. But nevertheless he stood and went to the tent entrance, bidding his son and grandsons to enter once more.

Inside, Gil-galad had also stood. He didn't intend this meeting to last that long, and so didn't invite the Men to be seated. Immediately that they were in, he began to speak, "We have discussed your account of this evening's events, and spoken with Lord Elrond, and we have come to a decision..."

Unexpectedly, Isildur didn't take this opportunity to speak. Either, for once, he had realised that silence was the better option, or else he was simply _that_ confident of evading punishment. Whichever it was, both kings quickly realised that he wasn't going to say anything and went on to deliver their verdict.

"We have decided," said Elendil, "that even though your version of events is blatantly untrue, it offers us the most expedient way of resolving this situation. Now, don't look so surprised, Isildur. Surely you didn't think you could fool us with that pack of lies?"

Isildur did them the favour of not even attempting to look ashamed. "I suppose it _was_ too much to hope for," he replied. "So, what _are_ you going to do?"

"As I said, we're going to act as if the story you gave us was the truth, and as that means that Aratan and Ciryon have considerately accepted the blame, and Elendur too, to some extent, then it is they who will be punished."

"I told you as much, father," said Ciryon.

Isildur glowered at his younger son, "And?" Ciryon chose not to answer.

"If you're quite finished?" Elendil asked sharply. Isildur calmly met his father's eyes. Elendil chose to ignore him. "We have decided that, as you were so insistent, a few days ago, on the need for us to reinforce Minas Ithil, Aratan and Ciryon will be sent there, after the forthcoming battle, with as many men as we can spare."

"What?!" Isildur exclaimed. "You can't send them away! We need them here!"

"And you were telling us that troops would be needed in Ithil to prevent Sauron's forces breaking through that way..." said Gil-galad.

"Well, yes, but..." Isildur couldn't think of anything that would convince the two kings to change the nature of his sons' punishment. He tried to reason with them, but his arguments were quickly quashed, both kings insisting that they had nothing more to say on the matter.

Isildur realised that it would be futile to continue this dispute, and was about to storm out of the elven-king's tent in disgust when it occurred to him, "You haven't said anything about Elendur's punishment... he's not to be sent away?"

"I should imagine he'll be needed with the healers after the battle," Elendil answered, "And I'll be ensuring that he finds himself doing some of the menial tasks too. That should be sufficient for his part in this."

"Very well," was Isildur's response, "If you'll excuse us then." And with that he swept out of the tent before his father could reply, followed by his sons.

*****  
Back in Elrond's tent, the two elves were resolutely avoiding the subject of what had happened after the council, instead spending the few remaining hours before sleep discussing tactics and battles long since fought.

Not all of their memories were encouraging; Glorfindel brought to mind the Ruin of Doriath and the Fall of Gondolin, as Elrond remembered the destruction of the Havens of Sirion and his own capture by Maglor. But Elrond also recalled the hosts of Beleriand who, with the Valar's aid, had defeated Morgoth and brought centuries of peace to their people.

Then at long last they slept, with hope in their hearts that they would have the strength to overcome Sauron's vile hordes.

Meanwhile, in his tent, Isildur railed against his father's decision to send his younger sons away. Ciryon, who would normally have comforted his father in his wrath, wept at the pain of the enforced separation. Aratan was attempting to console his younger brother, leaving Elendur unsure as to how he should act.

At length, Isildur calmed down somewhat and dismissed his sons. Ciryon protested, but his father told him to just leave him at peace for a little while, so that he could think. Finally alone, Isildur lay back, remembering the feeling of the half-elf's body pressed against him once again, the softness of his skin, and vowed that he'd find a way to possess him. *I don't care what it takes, who gets hurt; he'll be mine again. He _will_ be mine.*

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my fantastic beta readers (Chiara, Beth and Janet)


End file.
